HM^SOUTHWORTH 


LILITH 


A  Novel 


A  SEQUEL  TO  "THE  UNLOVED  WIFE  " 
By  MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

Author  of  "The  Bride's  Fate,"   "The  Changed  Brides," 

"Cruel   as   the   Grave,"    "The    Hidden    Hand,"    "  Ishmael," 

"Self-Raised,"  Etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  .-.  NEW  YORK 


Popular    Books 

By  MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

In  Handsome  Cloth  Binding 

Price  60  Cents  per  Volume 


CAPITOLA'S  PERIL 

CRUEL  AS  THE  GRAVE 

"EM" 

EM'S  HUSBAND 

FOR  WHOSE  SAKE 

ISHMAEL 

LILITH 

THE  BRIDE'S  FATE 

THE  CHANGED  BRIDES 

THE  HIDDEN  HAND 

THE  UNLOVED  WIFE 

TRIED  FOR  HER  LIFE 

SELF-RAISED 

WHY  DID  HE  WED  HER 


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Copyright,  1881  and  1890 
By  ROBERT  BONNER'S  SONS 


LILITH 


Printed  by  special  arrangement  with 
STREET  &  SMITH 


LILITH 

CHAPTER  I 

OLD  ADAH'S  SECRET 

So  at  last  shall  come  old  age, 

Decrepit,  as  beseems  that  stage. 

How  else  should  we  retire  apart 

With  the  hoarded  memories  of  the  heart? 

— Browning. 

Oh,  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still ! 

— Tennyson. 

IT  was  a  lovely  morning  in  May,  when  Tudor  Here- 
ward  sat,  wrapped  in  his  gray  silk  dressing-gown,  re- 
clining in  his  resting-chair,  on  the  front  piazza  at 
Cloud  Cliffs. 

He  had  had  a  hard  fight  with  death,  and  had  barely 
come  out  of  it  with  his  life. 

Physicians  and  friends  alike  ascribed  his  illness  to 
nervous  shock  upon  a  system  already  run  down  under 
the  long-continued  pressure  of  work  and  worry. 

He  was  convalescent  now,  yet  he  seemed  the  mer.e 
shadow  of  his  former  vigorous  manhood. 

By  his  side,  on  a  stand  covered  with  white  dam- 
ask, stood  a  basket  of  luscious  strawberries  in  a  nest 
of  their  own  leaves;  also  a  vase  of  fragrant  spring 

3 


22253 


4  LILITH 

flowers — hyacinths,  tulips,  jonquils,  daffodils,  violets 
and  heart's-ease.  Yet  he  neither  touched  nor  tasted 
•flowers  or  fruit. 

Before  him  stretched  the  green  lawn,  shaded  by 
acacia  trees  in  full  bloom,  which  filled  the  air  with 
their  rich  aroma. 

Farther  on,  the  woods  swept  around  the  grounds, 
a  semi-circular  wall  of  living  verdure. 

Beyond  them  stood  the  cliffs,  opal-tinted  in  the  sun- 
light, misty  where  their  heads  were  vailed  by  the  soft 
white  clouds  which  gave  them  their  name. 

Birds  trilled  their  song  of  rapture  through  the  per- 
fumed air. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning  in  a  lovely  scene.  A  morn- 
ing and  a  scene  that  ministered  to  every  sense,  yet 
it  was  more  than  a  mere  material  paradise,  for  its 
many  delights  combined  to  fill  the  soul  with  peace, 
joy  and  thankfulness,  and  so  to  raise  it 

"From  Nature  up  to  Nature's  God." 

Especially  to  a  convalescent,  coming  for  the  first 
time  out  of  his  sick-room,  must  such  a  scene  of  sum- 
mer glory  have  brought  a  delicious  sense  of  new  life 
in  fresh  and  keen  enjoyment,  making  him  think  that 
even  of  this  material  world  it  might  be  said,  to  some 
less  favored  people  of  some  other  planet:  "Eye  hath 
not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  hath  it  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  the  things  that  God  hath  prepared  for 
them  that  love  Him." 

But  this  was  not  the  case  with  Tudor  Hereward. 
To  his  sick  soul,  as  to  the  diseased  mind  of  another, 
the  beauty  of  the  earth  and  the  glory  of  the  heavens 
were  but 

"  A  foul  and  pestilent  congregation  of  vapors,' 

for  all  the  pleasure  he  could  take  in  them. 
His  wife  Lilith  was  gone — dead — murdered. 


LILITH  5 

This  was  to  him  the  death-knell  of  nature.  His 
mental  suffering  was  not  now  sharp.  He  was  much 
too  weak  to  feel  acutely.  His  sorrow  had  settled  into 
a  dull  despair — a  cold  and  lifeless  misery. 

Lilith  was  gone. 

If  she  had  passed  away  peacefully  in  her  bed,  at- 
tended by  friends,  sustained  by  religion,  though  he 
must  have  mourned  for  her,  he  could  have  borne  his 
loss;  or  if,  as  had  been  at  first  supposed,  she  had  ac- 
cidentally fallen  into  the  creek,  and  met  a  sudden, 
painless  death,  still,  though  he  must  have  suffered 
much  more,  yet  he  could  have  endured  the  blow;  but 
she  had  been  butchered — cruelly  butchered  by  some 
night-prowling  ruffian,  whose  identity  was  neither 
known  nor  suspected,  and  whose  motive  for  the  mon- 
strous crime  could  not  even  be  imagined. 

Lilith  had  been  slain,  and  the  blackness  of  dark- 
ness had  settled  upon  the  soul  of  him  who  felt  that 
he  had  driven  her  forth  that  bitter  winter  night  to 
meet  her  awful  fate. 

Yes,  the  blackness  of  darkness  seemed  to  have 
fallen  like  the  clods  of  the  grave  upon  his  dead  and 
buried  soul.  In  other  deaths  the  body  only  dies; 
the  soul  lives  on.  In  his  case  it  seemed  the  soul  that 
died,  while  the  poor  weak  body  lived  on. 

He  had  not  been  deserted  in  his  misery  and 
despair.  As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  discovered  mur- 
der at  Cliff  Creek  had  flown  over  the  country,  spread- 
ing horror  everywhere,  friends  and  neighbors  had 
flocked  to  the  house,  with  profound  sorrow  for  the 
murdered  wife  and  sympathy  for  the  awfully  bereaved 
husband,  and  earnest  proffers  of  assistance  in  any 
manner  in  which  their  services  could  be  made  avail- 
able. 

And  when  it  became  known  that  Mr.  Hereward 
himself  had  been  suddenly  stricken  down  by  danger- 
ous illness,  the  ladies  of  the  neighborhood,  skilful 


6  LILITH 

nurses  all,  carefully  trained  to  their  duties  as  their 
mothers  before  them  had  been — and  as  all  the 
mistresses  of  large  plantations  necessarily  were — 
came  in  turn  to  stop  at  the  Cliffs,  and  to  take  care  of 
the  desolate  master. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Cave,  his  old  pastor,  had  come  every 
day  to  visit  him,  and  as  soon  as  his  condition  war- 
ranted, to  administer  religious  consolation. 

Every  one  mourned  for  Lilith,  every  one  sympa- 
thized with  Hereward,  and  served  him  in  every  pos- 
sible way.  They  "pulled  him  through,"  as  the  doctor 
phrased  it,  though  it  was  but  the  shadow  of  the  man 
they  raised. 

And  even  now  that  he  was  convalescent  he  was  not 
left  to  himself. 

Mrs.  Jab  Jordon  was  now  the  volunteer  house- 
keeper and  nurse,  as  she  had  been  for  the  week  past, 
and  as  she  meant  to  be  for  the  week  to  come,  and  her 
fine  health  and  good  spirits  and  judicious  manage- 
ment were  as  beneficial  to  the  stricken  man  as  any- 
thing could  be  under  these  adverse  circumstances. 

It  was  her  hand  that  had  arranged  his  reclining- 
chair  on  the  piazza,  and  placed  the  stand  of  fruit  and 
flowers  by  its  side.  It  was  her  will  that  had  kindly 
forced  him  out  of  the  gloom  of  his  sick-chamber  into 
the  sunshine  and  fresh,  fragrant  air  of  that  lovely 
May  morning.  It  was  her  precaution  that  still  kept 
from  him  the  loads  of  well-meaning  letters  of  con- 
dolence that  he  could  not  have  borne  to  read  as  yet. 

And  even  now  the  good  woman  was  upstairs  super- 
intending Cely  and  Mandy  in  the  work  of  preparing 
a  new  room  for  the  patient,  who  was  not  to  be  taken 
back  to  the  old  sick-chamber,  which  was  dismantled 
and,  with  all  its  windows  open,  turned  out,  so  to 
speak,  to  all  the  airs  of  spring. 

It  was  a  little  surprising  to  all  who  knew  old  Nanoy, 
the  colored  housekeeper  who  had  so  long  ruled 


LILITH  7 

supreme  at  Cloud  Cliffs,  that  she  was  not  jealous  of 
this  invasion  of  the  house  by  the  ladies  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. But  in  fact,  Nancy  was  grateful  for  their 
presence  and  their  help. 

"  'Sides  w'ich,"  as  she  confided  to  Cassy,  the  cook, 
"dis  ain't  no  time  fer  no  po'  mortil  to  stan'  on  deir 
dignity.  De  'sponsibility  ob  de  case  is  too  mons'ous; 
let  alone  my  heart  bein'  broke  long  ob  po'  dear  Miss 
Lilif  goin'  to  glory  de  drefful  way  she  did!  an'  me 
fit  for  nuffin'.  It  would  be  flyin' — 'deed  it's  de  trufe — 
flyin'. " 

So  Nancy  put  herself  under  the  orders  of  Mrs.  Jor- 
don,  as  she  had  done  under  her  predecessors. 

The  pale  convalescent,  sitting  in  his  resting-chair, 
gazed  with  languid  eyes  over  the  lovely  lawn,  with 
its  fragrant  blossoming  trees,  and  its  parterres  of 
flowers  in  sunny  spots,  on  to  the  encircling  woods 
filled  with  birds  and  bird  songs,  and  beyond  to  the 
opal-tinted,  mist-vailed  cliffs,  and  to  the  deep  blue 
sky  above  them  all;  yet  seemed  to  take  in  nothing 
of  the  brightness  and  the  beauty. 

At  length  his  listless,  wyandering  eyes  perceived  a 
figure,  at  strange  variance  with  the  bright  summer 
scene. 

Creeping  around  from  the  rear  grounds,  emerging 
from  a  side  grove  of  acacia  trees,  winding  between 
parterres  of  hyacinths,  tulips,  daffodils,  and  other 
spring  flowers,  came  a  very  aged  woman,  small, 
black,  withered,  poorly  clad  in  an  old  brown  linsey 
gown,  with  a  red  handkerchief  tied  over  her  head  and 
under  her  chin,  and  leaning  on  a  cane,  she  drew  slowly 
near  the  piazza,  climbed  the  two  or  three  steps  and 
stood  bobbing,  but  trembling  with  infirmity,  before 
the  invalid  master. 

"Well,  Aunt  Adah,  I  am  pleased  to  see  you  abroad 
once  more,"  said  Hereward,  kindly. 

"Young  inarster,  I  t'ank  yer,  sah.    An'  I  is  t'ank- 


8  LILITH 

full  Oh,  my  Hebbenly  Lord,  how  t'ankful  I  is  in 
my  heart  to  fine  yer  sittin'  out  yere!"  earnestly  re- 
sponded the  woman,  reverently  raising  her  eyes  and 
trembling  through  all  her  frame. 

"Sit  down,  Aunt  Adah.  You  are  not  able  to  stand," 
said  Hereward,  kindly,  stretching  out  his  emaciated 
hand  to  reach  and  draw  a  chair  up  to  the  weary  old 
woman. 

"I  t'anks  yer,  young  marster,  I  t'anks  yer  werry 
much,  an'  I  will  sit  down  in  yer  p'esence,  since  yer's 
so  'siderate  as  to  'mit  me  so  to  do;  fer  I  is  weak, 
young  marster — I  is  weak.  I  has  been  yere  a  many 
times  to  see  yer,  young  marster,  but  dey  wouldu' 
leabe  me  do  it,  no  dey  wouldn',  an'  I  'spects  dey  was 
right.  Yer  wa'n't  well  'nuff  to  be  'sturbed,"  said  the 
old  creature,  as  she  lowered  herself  slowly  and  care- 
fully into  the  chair,  for  all  her  joints  were  stiff  with 
extreme  age. 

"You  were  very  kind  to  come  to  inquire  after  me 
so  often,"  said  Hereward,  gently. 

"An'  w'y  wouldn'  I  come?  An'  how  should  ebber 
I  hear  ob  yer  'dout  comin'  myse'f  to  'quire?  It'd  be 
long  'nuff  fo'  any  ob  dese  t'oughtless  niggers  yere 
come  'cross  de  crik  to  fetch  me  any  news!  Me,  as 
has  been  a  savint  ob  de  Tudors  for  'mos'  a  hund'ed 
years  an'  is  by  fur  de  ol'est  savint  on  de  plantation! 
'Deed  it's  de  trufe,  young  marster.  I  was  ninety-nine 
years  old  las'  Can'lemas  Day,"  continued  the  old 
woman,  stooping  to  lay  her  cane  on  the  floor. 

Hereward  smiled  faintly.  He  knew  from  old  farm 
records  that  Aunt  Adah  was  even  older  than,  with 
the  strange  pride  of  her  race  in  extreme  longevity, 
she  claimed  to  be;  and  that  for  the  last  few  years  she 
had  steadily  called  herself  ninety-nine  years  old  last 
Candlemas  Day,  sticking  at  that  imposing  number  and 
seeming  to  forget  that  every  year  increased  it;  hon- 
estly to  forget,  for  old  Adah  would  have  been  per- 


LILITH  9 

fectly  delighted  if  any  one  had  opened  her  eyes  and 
explained  to  her  that  she  might  truly  lay  claim  to  a 
hundred  and  seven  years. 

"You  have  certainly  been  a  most  faithful  follower  of 
the  family,  Aunt  Adah/'  said  the  young  man. 

"Yes,  honey,  fai'ful!"  assented  the  old  creature. 
"Dat's  me,  fai'ful! — fai'ful  froo  flck  an'  fin,  froo  good 
,  'port  and  ebil  'port,  fai'ful  fer  ninety-nine  years  las' 
'  Can'lemas  Day!  I  didn't  'rnancipate  de  plantashun  to 
go  off  to  Cong'ess  like  so  many  ob  dem  riff-raff,  low- 
life  brack  niggers  did!  No,  sah!  Aunt  Adah  Mun- 
gummerry  had  too  much  'spect  fer  herse'f,  let  alone 
'spect  fer  de  ole  famberly  ob  de  Tudors,  to  'grace 
herse'f  dat  way!  'Sides  w'ich,  young  marster,  to  tell 
de  bressed  trufe,  I  wouldn'  'a'  lef  my  log-house  in  de 
piney  woods  'cross  de  crik,  wid  my  good  pine-knot  fire 
in  de  winter  time,  an'  my  cool  spring  ob  water  outside 
de  do',  no,  not  fer  all  de  Cong'ess  in  de  whole  wori'! 
'Deed,  'fo'  de  law,  it's  de  trufe!" 

And,  inasmuch  as  Aunt  Adah  had  been  long  past 
labor  and  was  living  as  a  pensioner  on  the  family  at 
the  time  of  the  emancipation,  any  stranger  hearing  her 
boast  might  have  thought  that  policy  and  not  principle 
was  the  secret  of  her  fidelity  to  native  soil  and  friends. 
But  such  was  not  the  case.  At  no  age  would  she  have 
left  the  home  and  the  family  to  whom  she  was  so 
strongly  attached. 

Her  bondage  was  that  of  love,  from  which  no  act 
of  Congress  could  emancipate  her. 

"Would  you  like  a  glass  of  wine,  Aunt  Adah?" 
inquired  the  37oung  man,  reaching  his  thin  hand  to  a 
silver  call-bell  that  stood  upon  the  stand  near  him 

"No,  honey;  no,  chile,  not  yit;  not  jis  yit!  I'd  like 
a  tumbler  ob  good  b'andy  toddy,  bimeby,  but  not  yit, 
caze  I's  got  somefin  on  my  min',"  replied  the  old  crea- 
ture, so  very  solemnly  that  Hereward  withdrew  his 
hand  from  the  bell,  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  her. 


10  LILITH 

"Something  on  your  mind,  Aunt  Adah?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Yes,  young  marster,  somefin  werry  sarous  on  my 
min',"  repeated  the  aged  woman. 

"What  is  it,  Adah?  Speak  out,  my  good  soul. 
Don't  be  afraid!"  said  Hereward,  kindly. 

"I  ain't  afeard,  young  marster!  'Tain't  dat!  But 
it  is  somefin  berry  heabby  on  to  my  min',  as  been 
wantin'  to  get  offen  my  min'  by  tellin'  ob  you;  an' 
dat's  wot  fetch  me  yere  mos'  ebbery  day  since  yer's 
been  sick;  on'y  dey  wouldn'  leabe  me  see  yer,  no  way, 
and  I  'spects  dey  was  yight.  But  I  sees  yer  now, 
young  marse,  an'  I  wants  to  tell  yer." 

"Very  well,  Aunt  Adah,  tell  me  what  it  is  now," 
said  Hereward,  in  an  encouraging  tone. 

"Young  marse,  it  is  a  solemn  secret,  beknown  on'y 
to  me  an'  one  udder  gran'  wilyan!  But  I  was  boun' 
not  to  tell  anybody  on  dis  worl'  'fo'  I  could  tell  yo' 
fuss.  Dough,  indeed,  it  ought  fo'  to  be  tole  long 
ago,  on'y  it  wasn'  in  my  power  to  tell  it  at  de  yight 
time,  caze  I  was  all  alone  in  my  house,  laid  up  long 
ob  de  rheumatiz,  an'  didn'  know  wot  was  gwine  on 
yere  at  dis  place;  an'  w'en  I  did  come  to  fine  out,  it 
were  too  late  fer  dem,  an'  I  come  to  tell  yer,  but  yer 
was  too  ill  to  be  'sturbed,  an'  dey  wouldn'  let  me  see 
yer,  an'  I  'spects  dey  was  yight;  but  I  was  'termined 
to  keep  dat  solemn  secret  in  my  own  heart,  an'  not 
to  tell  nobody  wot  I  knowed  to  make  a  stracshun  in 
de  place,  till  yo'  got  well  so  I  could  tell  yo'  fuss,  an' 
let  yer  do  wot  yer  fought  bes'." 

"Yes,  yes;  but  what— what  is  it  that  you  have  to 
tell  me?"  demanded  Hereward,  becoming  more  im- 
pressed by  the  words  and  manner  of  the  woman. 

His  excitement  alarmed  the  poor  creature,  who 
pulled  herself  up  suddenly,  saying: 

"Hole   on   now,   Adah    Mungummerry!     Hole    on, 


LILITH  IT 

ole  lady!  Yer's  a  rushin'  ob  it  on  too  rapid  on  to 
a  sick  man.  Hole  up,  now!"  she  said,  talking  to  her- 
self, as  is  the  habit  of  the  extremely  aged. 

"Tell  me  at  once  what  you  have  to  tell,"  said  Here- 
ward,  with  a  sudden  terrible  suspicion  that  her  com- 
munication might  concern  the  murder  of  his  young 
wife. 

"Well,  dear  young  marster,  but  yer  mus'  have 
patience  and  'pose  yerse'f,  sah!  'Deed  yer  mus', 
young  marse,  or  yer'll  make  yerse'f  wuss,  an'  wot 
would  Mrs.  Jab  an'  de  udders  say  to  me  ef  I  made 
yer  wuss?  I's  gwine  to  tell  yer,  young  marse,  w'ich 
I  come  yere  fo'  dat  puppose;  but  I  mus'  tell  yer 
werry  graduately — so  as  not  to  make  yer  no  wuss. 
Well,  now,  le's  see — le'  me  see,  now.  Le'  me  be 
cautious.  Sort  o'  break  de  news  little  by  little.  Young 
marse,  yer  know  dat  mornin'  wot  yer  come  to  my 
cabin  to  'quire  'bout  Miss  Lilif?" 

"Yes,"  breathed  the  young  man,  beginning  to 
tremble  with  anxiety  in  his  extreme  weakness. 

"Well,  young  marse,  as  I  telled  you  dat  mornin'  I 
'peats  now.  She  hadn'  been  dere,  nor  likewise  nigh 
de  place  dat  bressed  night,  as  w'y  should  she  come, 
w'en — listen  now,  young  marse!  w'y  should  she  come 
w'en  it  warn't  ne'sary;  caze  she  had  sent  Nancy  long 
ob  dat  po'  misfortunit  young  gal,  to  fetch  me  money, 
an'  close,  an'  wittels,  an'  drink,  an'  ebbery  singerly 
fing  as  heart  could  wish." 

"So  you  told  me  before,"  said  Hereward,  impa- 
tiently. 

"So  I  did,  my  dear  young  marse,  an'  I  ax  yer  par- 
don fer  tellin'  ob  yo'  ag'in;  but  I  does  it  to  make 
yer  ax  yerse'f  w'y  should  Miss  Lilif  do  such  a  unne'- 
sary  fing  as  to  come  to  my  cabin  dat  cole  night  for 
nuffin?  No,  young  marse!  She  didn'  come  to  no  cabin 
dat  night." 


12  LILITH 

"But  she  started  to  go!"  exclaimed  Hereward,  with 
a  cry  of  anguish. 

"No,  young  marse!  An'  dis  is  wot  I  war  tryin'  to 
come  at,  soft  an'  grad'al,  not  to  s'prise  yer  too  sud- 
den. Now  listen,  dear  marse,  an'  year  wot  I  tell  yer, 
'caze  it's  de  bressed  trufe — Miss  Lilif  nebber  come  to 
de  cabin  dat  night,  nor  likewise  she  nebber  started  to 
come,  neider!"  solemnly  declared  the  old  woman. 

Hereward  sprang  up,  stared  at  the  earnest  speaker 
and  then  fell  back  faint  and  trembling. 

"  'Pose  yerse'f,  dear  young  marse;  dere  ain't  nuffm 
to  'stress  yer,  but  quite  deffrint,"  soothingly  mur- 
mured old  Adah. 

"What — what  do  you  mean?  She  certainly  did  go 

to  the  creek,  because — because "  faltered  the 

speaker,  but  his  voice  broke  down  in  silence. 

"Caze  dere  was  a  body  foun'  dere?  Dat  wot  yer 
were  gwine  to  say,  young  marse?" 

"Yes,"  breathed  Hereward. 

"Yes,  so  dere  was,  Marse  Tudor,  so  dere  was.  But 
dat  body  wa'n't  dear  Miss  Lilif 's!" 

Hereward,  trembling  as  if  stricken  with  palsy,  and 
with  his  hands  clutching  the  arms  of  his  chair,  bent 
forward  and  stared  at  the  speaker. 

"It's  de  trufe,  as  I  s'pect  to  stan'  'fo'  my  Hebbenly 
Judge  at  de  las'  day,  Marse  Tudor!  Dat  body  war 
not  Miss  Lilif  s,  as  I  could  hab  edified  to  de  Cow's 
Jury,  ef  I  had  a  knowed  wot  was  gwine  on  yere  an' 
could  a  come  up  'fo'  it.  'Stead  of  w'ich  I  war  laid 
up  long  ob  de  rheumatiz  at  home,  an'  no  one  came 
nigh  me  to  tell  nuffin." 

"Not — not — Lilith's "  muttered  Hereward,  fall- 
ing back  in  his  chair  quite  overcome. 

Old  Adah,  in  her  well-meaning,  blundering  man- 
ner, had  tried  to  "break  the  news,"  but  had  not  suc- 
ceeded. She  was  alarmed  at  the  looks  of  the  young 
man. 


LILITH  13 

"Le'  me  yun  in  de  house  an'  fetch  yer  a  glass  of 
wine,  Marse  Tudor!  Please,  sah!"  she  pleaded. 

"No,  no,  no,  do  not  move! — I  want  nothing — I  want 
nobody  to  come.  What  did  you  say? — It  was  not " 

"No,  Marse  Tudor,  it  wrar  not  hern,  no  mo'  an  it 
war  your'n  or  mine,"  impressively  replied  old  Adah. 

"But — it  was  identified  as  such  by — by " 

"By  de  long,  curly  brack  ha'r,  so  I  years,  an'  by 
de  gown,  an'  de  unnerclose  wid  her  name  on  'em,  an' 
de  putty  little  F'ench  boots  wid  her  name  on  de  in- 
side. Wa'n't  dat  wot  yer  war  gwine  to  say,  Marse 
Tudor?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  dat  were  all  jes'  so.  De  booful  ha'r  war 
like  Miss  Lilif's,  shuah  nuff,  an'  de  warm  casher 
gown,  an'  de  unnerclose,  an'  de  pooty  F'ench  boots 
war  all  Miss  Lilif's.  But  dat  war  jes'  all  dere  war 
ob  Miss  Lilif's.  It  wa'n't  hern." 

"Adah!  what  is  this  you  are  telling  me,  and  what 
reason  have  you  for  saying  what  you  do?"  demanded 
Hereward,  with  a  great  effort. 

"  'Caze  I  knows  all  about  it,  young  marse,  an'  T 
knows  whose  'mains  dey  war  as  war  foun'  in  de 
crik." 

"Whose,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  were  they?" 

"Dey  war  doze  ob  dat  po',  des'late  young  creeter 
wot  war  murdered  by  her  man,  an'  t'rowed  inter  de 
crik  dat  same  night,  as  I  could  a  testimonied  at  de 
Cow's  Quest,  ef  I  had  been  sent  for  or  eben  ef  I  had 
known  wot  war  gwine  on  yere  at  de  time.  But  no 
one  fought  ob  sendin'  for  me,  a  ole  'oman  cripple  up 
wid  de  rheumatiz  an'  not  able  to  creep  no  furder 
dan  to  fill  my  bucket  at  de  spring  outside  de  do'! 
'Deed,  I  nebber  heerd  nuffin  'tall  'bout  wot  happen 
till  it  war  too  late  to  edify  de  Cow's  Jury.  Soon  as  I 
did  year  it,  I  creeped  up  yere  to  tell  yer  wot  I  knowed; 
but  yer  war  too  ill  to  be  'sturbed — so  dey  said,  an' 


14  LILITH 

I  'spect  as  dey  war  yight.  So  I  'solved  to  keep  de 
secret  till  yer  war  able  for  to  year  it;  'caze  I  didn't 
want  to  make  no  mo'  stracshun  in  de  neighborhood 
wid  no  mo'  news  till  I  could  'vise  long  ob  you  'bout 
it,  sah.  An'  so  I  come  up  yere  two  or  three  times 
ebbery  week,  but  dey  wouldn'  leabe  me  come  to  yer 
— no  dey  wouldn'!  I's  moughty  t'ankful  as  I  has 
cotch  yer  to-day,  Marse  Tudor." 


CHAPTER  II 

NEW   HOPE 

HEREWARD  was  suffering  from  terrible  excitement. 
iWe  said  a  little  while  since  that  his  soul  seemed  dead 
within  him.  And  as  resuscitation  is  always  more  dis- 
tressing than  asphyxia,  so  the  infusion  of  a  ray  of 
hope  that  gave  new  life  to  his  spirit  caused  much 
anguish. 

It  required  all  his  recovered  power  of  mind  to  con- 
trol his  emotion. 

"Adah!"  he  said,  "what  you  tell  me  is  so  strange, 
so  startling,  so  incredible,  that  I  have  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  receiving  it!  What  good  reason  have  you 
for  believing — believing  that?" 

Again  Hereward  broke  down. 

"Dat  de  'mains  foun'  in  de  crik  wor  not  doze  ob 
my  dear  young  mist'ess,  but  wor  doze  ob  dat  young 
gal  wot  wor  made  way  wid  by  her  man?  Yer  see  I 
kin  'lude  to  dem  'mains  d'out  lozin'  ob  my  head  'caze 
I  knows  dey  wor  doze  ob  dat  po'  murdered  gal.  Ef  I 
eben  s'picioned  as  dey  wor  doze  ob  my  dear  young 
mist'ess  I  couldn'  speak  ob  dem,  no,  no  mo'  dan  yer 
can  yerse'f,  Marse  Tudor." 


LILITH  15 

"Yes;  but  what  proof — what  proof  have  you?" 
breathlessly  inquired  Hereward. 

"Fs  gwine  to  tell  yer,  Marse  Tudor,  ef  yer  will  on'y 
'pose  yerse'f  an'  hab  patience.  'Deed,  I  'spects  as  Mrs. 
Jab'll  take  de  head  offen  my  shou'ders  fo'  'citin'  ob 
yer  so." 

"Yes;  but  what  proof?  what  proof?" 

"Fs  gwine  to  tell  yer,  Marse  Tudor,  'deed  I  is. 
Yer  'member  dat  mornin'  w'en  yer  come  'quirin'  at  my 
cabin  'bout  Miss  Lilif?" 

"Yes,  yes;  you  asked  me  that  question  some  time 
back." 

"So  I  did,  Marse  Tudor;  an'  I  ax  ob  yer  pardon  fo' 
axin'  it  ag'in.  It  wor  on'y  to  'mind  yer  of  de  day, 
marse.  Yer  'member  as  I  tole  yer  how  de  young 
mist'ess  had  gib  dat  po'  gal  lots  ob  wittles  an'  drink, 
an'  close,  an'  money,  fo'  herse'f  an'  me,  too?  Yer 
'member  dat,  young  marse?" 

"I  do." 

"An'  likewise  as  I  tole  yer  how  her  man  come  in  un- 
expected dat  same  night,  an'  eat  up  all  de  good 
wittles,  and  drunk  up  all  de  good  licker,  an'  tuk  all  de 
money,  an'  'polled  her  to  go  'way  'long  o'  him  dat  same 
night?" 

"Yes,  I  remember.     Go  on." 

"Well,  Marse  Tudor,  I  tole  yer  all  dat;  but  I  didn't 
fink  ob  tellin'  ob  yer  all  de  little  trifles  w'ich  'peared 
no  'count — sich  as  he  makin'  ob  her  dress  herse'f  in 
her  close  to  go  'long  ob  him — dose  berry  close  wot 
Mis«  Lilif  gib  her — dat  warm  cashy  gown,  an'  de 
nice  unnerclose,  an'  de  pooty  French  boots,  an'  de 
little  hat — all  wot  was  tied  up  in  de  bundle — did  he 
make  her  take  out  an'  put  on  to  go  'long  ob  him 
genteel.  No,  I  didn't  tell  yer  dat;  nor  likewise  as 
how  she  'beyed  him  in  'spect  ob  de  close,  but  'posed 
him  when  he  tuk  ebberyfin'  out'n  de  house  an'  lef 
me  nuffin'.  An'  dey  bofe  went  'way  quarrelin' — 


16  LILITH 

quarrelin'  werry  bitter,  an'  I  yeard  'em  at  it  till  dey 
got  out  ob  yearin' — an'  next  minit  I  heerd  an  awful 
screech,  an'  den  anoder,  an'  anoder.  An'  I  say: 
'Dere,  now,'  I  say,  'he's  beatin'  ob  her,  de  brute!' 
An'  den  dere  was  silence.  An'  I  nebber  fought  no 
wuss  ob  it,  dan  it  wor  bad  'nuff,  but  not  so  uncom- 
mon as  to  keep  me  'wake." 

Old  Adah  paused  for  breath,  while  Herewartf 
waited  for  her  next  words  with  intense  anxiety.  At 
length  she  resumed: 

"I  nebber  tole  yer  'bout  dese  las'  mentioned  fings, 
'caze  I  fought  den  dey  was  on'y  trifles;  but,  Lor5, 
who  kin  tell  wot  is  trifles,  or  wot  trifles  is  gwine  to 
mount  up  to  'fo'  dey's  done  wid  yer?  It  wor  dem 
berry  trifles,  w'ich  I  fought  ob  no  'count,  as  would 
indentified  dem  'mains  wot  was  foun'  in  de  crik  for 
doze  ob  dat  po'  young  gal,  ef  on'y  I  hed  been  sent 
fer  to  edify  de  Cow's  Quest.  Dere!  My  Lor'!  mnr 
what  is  I  done?"  cried  the  old  woman,  rising  in  alarm 
and  peering  into  the  face  of  the  young  master,  who 
had  fallen  back  into  his  seat  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
dead  swoon. 

She  took  up  the  hand-bell,  and  was  about  to  sound 
an  alarm  for  help,  when  her  wrist  was  feebly  grasped, 
and  her  name  faintly  called. 

"Adah — no — don't  ring!  Wait — I  shall  recover 
presently.  Give  me — time,"  whispered  Hereward, 
making  a  great  effort  to  rally. 

After  a  little  while  he  said: 

"If  what  you  tell  me  is  true — and  I  have  no  rea- 
son to  doubt  your  word — then  it  was  really  the  body 
of  that  poor  girl  which  was  found  in  the  creek,  and 
your  mistress  is  still  living.  But,  Adah,  I  commend 
your  discretion  in  keeping  silent  so  long;  and  I  ad- 
vise you  to  the  same  course.  Speak  to  no  one  of 
this  matter.  Let  it  remain  for  the  present  a  secret 
between  you  and  me." 


LILITH  17 

"Old  Adah,  highly  flattered  by  the  thought  of  hav- 
ing a  secret  in  common  with  her  master,  kept  from 
all  the  rest  of  the  world,  warmly  responded: 

"I  kep'  dat  secret  to  myse'f  all  dis  time,  waitin' 
fo'  yer  to  be  well  'nuff  to  hear  it,  an'  I  will  keep  on 
keepin'  it,  marster,  an'  red  hot  pinchers  shouldn'  pull 
it  out'n  me  till  yer  say  so." 

"I  do  not  want  any  more  neighborhood  gossip  or 
excitement  over  this  matter.  I  do  not  want  the 
sacred  name  of  my  wife  bandied  about  from  mouth 
to  mouth  in  speculating  as  to  what  has  become  of 
her.  I  must  confer  with  my  own  tried  and  trusty 
friends  and  the  local  authorities,  and  we  must  take 
counsel  together.  You  understand,  Adah?" 

"Surely,  surely,  young  marster,  I  unnerstan's  so 
puffect  dat  dat  wor  de  reason  w'y  I  kep'  wot  I  kno'd 
to  myse'f  till  I  could  tell  it  to  yo',  Marse  Tudor." 

"Very  well.  Now  I  think  I  must  be  alone  for  a 
little  while.  Do  you  go  into  the  kitchen  and  tell 
Nancy  or  Gassy  to  give  you — whatever  you  would 
like  in  the  way  of  refreshments." 

"Tank  yer,  Marse  Tudor;  I  will  go.  Yer  was  allers 
so  'siderate  to  de  po',"  gratefully  replied  the  woman, 
as  she  stooped  and  picked  up  her  stick,  slowly  arose 
and  hobbled  away  towards  the  rear  of  the  house. 

Hereward,  left  alone,  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head. 

"Am  I  dreaming?"  he  asked  himself.  "Is  this  one 
of  those  delirious  visions  that  tortured  or  delighted 
me  during  the  progress  of  my  fever?  Lilith — not 
dead?  Lilith  living?  Oh,  Heaven!  can  such  a  hap- 
piness be  really  still  possible  to  me,  that  I  should  see 
Lilith  again  in  the  flesh?  Oh,  Heaven!  that  this  could 
come  to  pass!  All  evils  of  life  would  be  nothing  if 
only  Lilith  could,  peradventure,  be  restored  to  me 
living.  I  would  no  longer  care  for  all  the  fame  and 
glory  that  this  world  could  give  me,  if  only  my  child 
wife  could  be  returned  to  me!  But  can  this  be  pos- 


18  LILITH 

sible?  What  balance  of  proof  is  there  in  favor  of  her 
continued  life,  in  the  face  of  the  verdict  of  that 
coroners  jury?  I  do  not  know;  I  cannot  weigh  evi- 
dence to-day!  I  am  weak!  I  am  weak!  Kerr  will 
be  here  soon.  I  will  ask  him  what  he  thinks  about 
the  matter.  I  will  tell  him  all  and  I  will  take  his 
opinion." 

As  Hereward  communed  with  himself  in  this  man- 
ner the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Jab  Jordon  came  out 
on  the  piazza,  bringing  in  her  hands  a  silver  waiter 
upon  which  was  arranged  a  china  plate  of  chicken 
jelly,  another  plate  of  delicate  biscuits,  a  small  de- 
canter of  port  wine,  and  a  wine  glass. 

She  set  the  waiter  with  its  contents  upon  the  little 
stand  beside  Hereward's  chair,  and  then,  looking  at 
the  invalid  critically,  she  inquired: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  have  been 
worrying  and  exciting  yourself  about  something. 
And  you  know  that  is  not  good  for  you.  Come,  now, 
I  want  you  to  eat  all  this  jelly  and  drink  at  least 
two  glasses  of  wine,  and  then,  as  the  sun  is  coming 
around  this  way  and  it  is  getting  warm,  I  want  you 
to  come  in  and  take  your  noon  sleep." 

Hereward  smiled  faintly  and  tried  obediently  to 
do  as  the  lady  bade  him;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether 
he  would  have  accomplished  the  task  before  him  had 
not  Mrs.  Jab  drawn  up  a  chair  and  drilled  him  into 
compliance. 

When  he  had  finished  his  light  meal  she  took  his 
arm  and  led  him  into  the  house  and  upstairs  to  the 
new  room  that  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  made 
him  lie  down  on  his  bed. 

Meanwhile,  old  Adah  had  gone  into  the  kitchen, 
where  she  found  Nancy  superintending  the  prepara- 
tions for  dinner,  while  Gassy  and  the  two  younger 
negro  women  were  engaged  in  paring  potatoes,  shel- 
ling peas,  and  capping  strawberries. 


LILITH  19 

"Aloruiiv,  chillun!  How  does  all  do  dis  fine  mor- 
nin'?"  said  the  old  woman,  as  she  slowly  and  stiffly 
lowered  herself  into  the  nearest  chair  and  laid  her 
stick  on  the  floor. 

"Mornin',  Aunt  Adah!"  returned  a  chorus  of  voices, 
as  the  three  women  stopped  their  work  and  came 
around  her. 

"Glad  to  see  de  young  ruarster  out  ag'in!"  said 
Adah. 

"Yes,  he  is  out  ag'in — wot's  lef  ob  him!  'Deed 
it's  awful!  Makes  me  fink  ob  my  latter  en',"  said 
Nancy,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"Yes,  it's  a  warnin'!  It's  a  warnin'l"  put  in  Gassy, 
without  exactly  defining  what  '"it"  meant. 

"  'Deed  I  gwine  look  out  an'  see  ef  I  can't  j'in  some 
more  s'ieties.  I  'longs  to  sebben  or  eight  now,  but 
I  ain't  satisfied  in  my  own  mine  w'ich  is  de  yight 
one,  or  eben  ef  any  ob  deui  I  'long  to  is  de  yight 
one.  An'  dere  can't  be  but  one  yight  one,  no  way." 

"Chile  Nancy,  I  fink  as  yer  'longs  to  too  many 
s'ieties.  Now,  one  is  'nough  for  me,  w'ich  dat  is  de 
Kebbernt  Marse  Parson  Cave's  s'iety,  w'ich  is  good 
'nough.  for  me,  'caze  arter  all  it  is  de  Lord  I  trus'  in 
and  not  de  s'iety,"  humbly  suggested  old  Adah. 

"G'way  f'oin  yere,  ole  'oman!  Yer  dunno  wot  yer 
talkin'  'bout!  In  dese  yere  drefful  times  I  want  to 
be  on  de  safe  side;  so  I  j'ines  all  de  s'ieties  I  kin  flue 
so  as  to  get  de  yight  one!  I  done  hear  ob  two  more 
s'ieties  way  out  yonder  some'ars,  w'ich  I  mean  to 
j'in  soon's  ebber  I  get  de  chance." 

"Two  more  s'ieties,  A'n'  Nancy!"  exclaimed  Cely 
opening  her  eyes  to  their  widest  extent. 

"Yes,  honey;  yes,  chillun!  W'ich  one  is — le'  me 
see  now — wot's  deir  names  a'gn?  One  is  called  de 
Shakin'  Quakers.  An'  dat  s'iety  would  suit  me  good, 
leastways  in  some  fings;  'caze  I  doan  beliebe  in 
marr'in  an'  gibbin'  in  marridge  no  mo'  dan  dey  do; 


20  LILITH 

an'  as  fer  de  res'  ob  it,  w'y,  ebbery  time  I  gets 
de  fever'n'  ager  I  ken  shake  an'  quake  wid  de  bes'  ob 
'em!  An'  dere's  dat  oder  s'iety,  'way  out  yonder 
soni'ers,  as  is  called  de  More-men.  But  I  misdoubts 
as  dat  one  kin  be  de  yight  one,  'caze  dey's  just  oppo- 
side  to  de  oder  one,  an'  beliebes  in  a  doctrine  called 
Pulliginy,  an'  libs  up  to  it,  to  be  sure,  w'ich  is  mo' 
dan  some  s'ieties  do  deir  doctrines." 

"Wot's  Pulligiuy,  Nancy,  chile?"  inquired  old  Adah. 

"Pulliginy  is  de  More-men  perswashun.  It  means 
as  a  'oman  may  marr'  as  many  husband's  as  she  kin 
take  care  ob!  An'  marster  knows  dat  wouldn't  suit 
me  at  all.  I  never  could  hab  patience  'nuff  wid  de 
po'  he-creeturs  to  marr'  one  husban',  much  less  a 
whole  pulliginy  ob  'em.  No — I  can't  say  as  I  'mire 
de  More-men  doctorine.  Dough  I  is  much  exercise 
in  my  mine  fear  it  might  be  de  on'y  yight  one.  Sure 
'nuff,  it  must  hab  crosses  'nuff  in  it  ef  dat  would  sabe 
a  soul." 

"Nancy,  chile,  w'y  can't  yer  trus'  in  de  Lord,  an' 
not  trouble  so  much  'bout  de  s'ieties?"  inquired  old 
Adah. 

"  'Caze  I  wants  to  be  zactly  yight  an'  sabe  my  soul 
an'  go  to  Glory.  But  as  for  you,  Aunt  Adah,  wot 
do  you  expec'  as  nebber  goes  inside  ob  any  church?" 
demanded  Nancy. 

"Honey,  1  hum'ly  hopes  de  dear  Lord  will  sabe 
my  soul,  'caze  I  can't  go  to  church  in  my  'streme  ole 
age — ninety-nine  years  old  las'  Can'lemas  Day.  Can't 
walk  nigh  so  far,  honey,  an'  can't  sit  so  long;  but 
I  trus'  in  de  Lord." 

"An'  you,  'lectin'  de  s'ieties  as  you  do  s'pects  to  go 
to  Glory?"  demanded  Nancy,  full  of  righteous  indig- 
nation. 

"No,  honey,  no — not  to  Glory.  I  nebber  'sumed  to 
fink  ob  sich  a  fing  as  dat.  But  I  do  hope  as  de  dear 
Lord  will  let  me  in  to  some  little  place  in  His  kingdom 


LILITH  21 

— some  little  house  by  some  little  crik  running  up 
out'n  de  Ribber  ob  Life,  whey  I  can  lib  in  lub  'long  ob 
my  dear  ole  man  an'  our  chillun  wot  all  went  home  so 
many  years  ago.  Dat's  wot  I  hum'ly  trus'  in  de  Lord 
to  gib  me." 

"A'n'  Adah,  wouldn'  yer  like  a  bowlful  of  beef 
soup?"  inquired  Cassy,  breaking  in  upon  this  discus- 
sion. 

"Yes,  chile,  I  would,  w'ich  de  young  marster  said  as 
I  might  hab  a  tumbler  ob  b'andy  toddy,  too." 

"All  yight.  So  you  shall.  An'  yer'd  better  stay  all 
day  wid  us  an'  get  bofe  a  good  dinner  an'  a  good  sup- 
per, an'  Cely  an'  Mandy  'ill  take  you  home." 

"T'anky,  kindly,  Cassy,  chile,  so  I  will,"  concluded 
the  aged  woman,  settling  herself  comfortably  for  a 
whole  day's  enjoyment. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  Rev.  Mr.  Cave  and  Dr. 
Kerr  drove  over  together  to  see  Tudor  Hereward. 

They  were  shown  at  once  to  his  chamber,  where 
they  found  him  reclining  on  a  lounge  near  the  open 
window. 

"You  have  been  sitting  out  on  the  piazza  this  morn- 
ing, I  hear,"  said  the  doctor,  after  the  first  greetings 
were  over. 

"Yes,  for  two  hours,"  replied  Hereward. 

"Too  long  for  a  first  effort.  You  have  overtasked 
yourself." 

"No,  it  is  not  that,  doctor.  Please  lock  the  door, 
to  prevent  interruption,  and  draw  your  chairs  up  to 
me,  both  of  you.  I  have  some  strange  news  to  com- 
municate, which  I  received  this  morning,"  said  Here- 
ward, in  some  nervous  trepidation. 

"Yes!  and  that  is  just  what  has  excited  and  ex- 
hausted you,"  said  Dr.  Kerr,  as  he  complied  with 
Here  ward's  request,  sat  down  beside  him  and  felt  his 
pulse. 

"And  yet  it  was  good  news,  if  I  can  judge  by  the 


22  LILITH 

expression  of  your  face,  Tudor,"  put  in  the  rector, 
wondering,  meanwhile,  what  good  news  could  pos- 
sibly have  come  to  this  awfully  bereaved  man. 

"Yes,  it  was  good  news,  if  true;  and  there  lies  the 
great  anxiety,"  replied  Hereward. 

And  then  to  these  two  oldest  of  old  friends  and 
neighbors,  the  pastor  of  the  parish  and  the  physician 
of  the  family,  Tudor  Hereward  told  the  story  that 
had  been  told  him  by  old  Adah. 

The  two  gentlemen  were  not  so  much  amazed  as 
the  narrator  had  expected  them  to  be,  yet  they  were 
most  profoundly  interested. 

"There  must  always  be  a  doubt  in  these  cases  where 
the  proof  of  identification  seems  to  be  in  the  clothing 
only,  and  not  in  the  person,"  said  the  doctor. 

"That  is  certainly  so.  Clothing  may  have  changed 
hands,  as  in  this  instance,"  added  the  rector. 

"I  want  your  decided  opinion,  if  you  can  give  it 
to  me,  on  this  subject.  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
that  if  it  can  be  shown  that  the  remains  identified 
before  the  coroner's  jury  as  those  of  my  wife,  were 
in  reality  not  hers,  but  of  another  person,  I  should 
be  lifted  from  death  and  despair  to  life  and  hope. 
For  look  you,  my  friends,  in  all  the  long  and  dreary 
days  and  in  all  the  long  and  sleepless  nights,  I  say 
to  myself,  that  whoever  struck  the  fatal  blow,  I,  and 
I  only,  am  the  original  cause  of  Lilith's  death,"  said 
Hereward. 

"You  are  so  morbid  on  that  subject  that  I  despair 
of  ever  bringing  you  to  reason,"  sighed  the  rector. 

"At  least  until  I  have  brought  him  to  health!  The 
body  and  mind  are  so  nearly  connected  that  when 
one  is  weakened  or  diseased,  the  other  is  apt  to  be 
so  too,"  added  the  doctor. 

"You  are  both  mistaken.  My  remorse  and  despair 
have  nothing  to  do  with  health  of  body  or  mind. 
Thev  are  both  normal  and  natural.  Listen  to  me. 


LILITH  23 

If  I,  in  the  madness  of  the  moment,  had  not  insulted, 
outraged,  and  driven  my  young  wife  from  my  side, 
she  would  never  have  gone  forth  that  bitter  winter 
night  to  meet  the  cruel  death  at  the  hands  of  some 
midnight  marauder — according  to  the  verdict  of  the 
coroner's  jury." 

"But  you  did  not  send  her  to  the  creek/'  said  the 
doctor. 

"No!  but  I  might  as  well  have  done  so!  Oh!  I 
knew  how  it  was — or  might  have  been — for  I  will 
still  hope  that  it  was  not  so.  She  knowing  that  she 
was  about  to  leave  the  Cliffs  for  an  indefinite  time, 
thought  of  the  poor  old  woman  who  might  suffer  in 
her  absence,  and  determined  that  she  would  pay  her 
a  last  visit  and  leave  with  her  provision — in  money, 
which  could  be  easily  carried — to  last  her  for  a  long 
time.  In  her  feeling  of  mortification  at  having  been 
cast  off  by  her  husband,  she  chose  to  go  alone,  so  as 
not  to  expose  her  distress  to  any  one — not  even  to  a 
faithful  servant.  So,  before  setting  out  on  her  long 
journey,  she  started  to  visit  old  Adah,  at  the  creek 
cabin,  and  met  her  fate — through  me." 

"If  she  did  meet  her  fate!  But,  Hereward,  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  the  old  woman's  story,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"And  so  do  I,"  added  the  rector. 

"There  is  only  one  doubt,"  replied  Hereward, 
"and  it  is  this:  The  identification  by  the  clothing 
only  must  still  be  unsatisfactory.  Lilith  was  in 
mourning  for  niy  father.  Her  dress  was  always  black, 
and  of  one  pattern — that  is,  her  ordinary  dress,  I 
mean,  of  course.  It  seems  that  she  gave  a  suit  of  her 
clothing  to  that  poor  girl.  What  of  that?  She  had 
other  suits  of  the  same  sort  of  clothing,  and  wore 
one  of  those  that  same  night,  for  she  wore  no  other 
sort  on  common  occasions.  And  the  fear  is  that  when 
she  set  out  to  visit  old  Adah  at  the  creek  cabin,  she 


24  LILITH 

was  met,  robbed  and  murdered  by  this  tramp  and 
his  girl,  and  that  it  was  her  screams  that  old  Adah 
heard.  For  remember,  that  Lilith's  watch  and  purse 
have  never  been  found,  nor  any  trace  of  Lilith  herself, 

unless  that  found "  Hereward's  voice  broke  down, 

and  his  head  fell  back  upon  his  pillow. 

Dr.  Kerr  went  to  a.  side  table  and  poured  out  a 
glass  of  wine,  which  he  brought  and  compelled  his 
patient  to  drink. 

"At  any  rate,  Tudor,  there  is  a  very  reasonable 
hope  that  Lilith  still  lives.  Let  this  hope  sustain  and 
not  exhaust  you.  Leave  the  matter  in  the  hands  of 
Divine  Providence,  first  of  all,  and  in  the  hands  of 
your  two  friends  as  his  servants  and  instruments. 
Say  nothing  of  this  to  any  one  else.  It  would  not 
be  well  to  open  up  such  a  subject  of  discussion  in 
this  neighborhood.  Wait  until  we  have  used  every 
human  means  of  discovering  the  whereabouts  of  your 
Lilith,"  said  the  rector,  earnestly. 

"Yes,  that's  it!  Leave  the  affair  to  us,  under  Provi- 
dence! We  have  no  certainty;  but  the  new  hope  is 
better  than  despair,"  added  the  doctor. 

And  to  support  moral  teaching  by  physical  means, 
he  made  up  a  sedative  draught  and  left  it  with  his 
patient. 

The  doctor  and  the  rector  went  away  together, 
much  wondering  at  the  new  aspect  given  to  the  Cliff 
Creek  tragedy  by  the  revelations  of  old  Adah. 

They  kept  this  revelation  to  themselves,  and  went 
about  secretly  trying  to  get  some  clew,  either  to  the 
whereabouts  of  Lilith,  or  of  the  young  girl  to  whom 
she  had  given  a  suit  of  her  own  clothes. 

They  visited  old  Adah  in  her  cabin,  and  using  her 
young  master's,  Tudor  Hereward's,  name,  questioned 
her  closely  on  the  subject  of  the  events  that  had 
transpired  in  her  cabin  on  the  night  of  the  murder. 


LILITH  25 

They  cross-questioned  her  with,  a  skill  and  persever- 
ance that  Hereward,  in  his  weakened  condition,  could 
never  have  shown.  And  old  Adah  answered  them  by 
revealing  freely  all  she  knew  and  all  she  suspected. 

They  came  away  from  that  interview  thoroughly 
convinced  that  the  body  found  in  the  creek  was  that 
of  the  gypsy  girl  to  whom  Lilith  had  given  a  suit  of 
her  clothes. 

They  were  again  together  to  Cloud  Cliffs,  and  told 
the  suffering  master  of  the  house  of  their  new  and 
strong  convictions  on  the  subject. 

"Lilith  lives!  Be  sure  of  that!  No  stone  shall  be 
left  unturned  to  discover  her,  and  her  restoration  to 
your  arms  is  only  a  question  of  time,  and  of  a  very 
little  time  also,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Bear  up,  Tudor!  It  rests  with  yourself,  under  the 
Lord,  to  recover  your  former  health  and  strength  of 
body  and  mind.  Rouse  yourself!  Be  the  calm,  strong, 
firm  man  that  you  have  heretofore  shown  yourself," 
added  the  rector. 

And  Hereward  grasped  their  hands  and  thanked 
them  warmly  for  their  sympathy  and  services. 

"But  though  we  feel  sure  that  Lilith  lives,  and 
that  we  shall  find  her  before  many  days,  yet  still,  to 
avoid  giving  rise  to  a  sensational  report,  we  have 
determined  to  continue  our  first  policy  of  reticence 
until  we  shall  really  have  found  Lilith  and  restored 
her  to  her  home.  Do  you  not  approve  our  plan,  Here- 
ward?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  certainly,  that  is  the  best,"  answered  the 
young  man. 

The  two  friends  took  leave  of  the  patient  and  de- 
parted. 

"All  the  same,"  said  the  doctor,  as  they  walked 
out  together  and  re-entered  their  gig,  "if  Lilith  is 


26  LILITH 

not  soon  recovered,  Tudor  must  die.    The  strain  upon 
him  is  too  great  to  be  borne." 

"Let  us  trust  in  the  Lord,"  said  the  rector,  "and 
hope  for  a  happier  issue." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  NIGHT-PASSENGER'S  NEWS 

Rise!   If  the  past  detain  you, 

Her  sunshine  and  storms  forget; 
No  chains  so  unworthy  to  hold  you 

As  those  of  a  vain  regret 
Sad  or  bright,  it  is  lifeless  ever, 

Cast  its  phantom  arms  away, 
Nor  look  back  but  to  learn  the  lesson 

Of  a  nobler  strife  to-day. 
The  future  has  deeds  of  glory, 

Of  honor — God  grant  it  may! 
But  your  arm  will  never  be  stronger 

Or  the  need  so  great  as  to-day. 

A.  A.  P. 

THE  Rev.  Mr.  Cave  and  the  good  Dr.  Kerr,  both 
devoted  friends  of  Tudor  Hereward,  had  promised 
him  to  leave  nothing  untried  that  might  lead  to  a 
clew  to  trace  the  fate  of  the  missing  women.  For — 
to  reach  the  truth  more  promptly  and  effectually — it 
was  deemed  highly  important  to  institute  an  exhaus- 
tive investigation  into  the  movements  of  both  the  lost 
ones,  from  the  day  of  their  disappearance. 

One  of  them  lay  in  her  grave,  in  the  village  church- 
yard; and  the  other  had  vanished. 

But  which  was  the  dead  and  which  was  the  living, 
no  human  being  at  Frosthill  could  prove. 

The  negroes  and  the  neighbors  had  identified  the 


LILITH  27 

body  thrown  up  by  the  spring  flood  from  the  bed  of 
the  creek  and  found  in  the  ravine  as  that  of  young 
Mrs.  Tudor  Here  ward;  but  they  had  identified  it  only 
by  the  clothing  and  by  the  long,  black,  curling  hair — 
only  by  these;  for  "decay's  effacing  finger"  had 
blotted  out  every  feature  beyond  recognition. 

And  this  held  good  for  the  truth  until  old  Adah  de- 
clared in  the  most  solemn  manner  her  conviction  that 
the  remains  were  those  of  the  poor  gypsy  girl  Lucille, 
giving  strong  reasons  to  support  her  statement. 

Lucille  was  dressed  in  a  suit  of  young  Mrs.  Here- 
ward's  clothes,  which  had  been  bestowed  on  her  by 
that  lady. 

Lucille  had  left  Adah's  hut  that  fatal  night,  in  com- 
pany with  her  ruffian  husband,  with  whom  she  had 
ventured  to  remonstrate  on  his  robbing  the  poor  old 
woman  of  the  goods  sent  her  by  Mrs.  Hereward;  and 
they  had  gone  away  quarreling  until  they  were  out 
of  hearing;  soon  after  which,  and  at  about  the  time 
they  might  have  reached  the  point  where  the  path 
through  the  woods  passed  over  the  bridge  crossing 
the  creek,  a  piercing  shriek  rang  through  the  air  fol- 
lowed by  another  and  another,  startling  the  bed-ridden 
old  woman  in  the  hut  and  filling  her  soul  with  terror. 

Then  all  was  still  as  death. 

Old  Adah  had  not  at  that  time  suspected  the  man 
of  killing  his  wife,  but  only  of  beating  her  brutally, 
as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing. 

Xever  until  she  heard  of  the  body  that  had  been 
found  did  she  think  of  murder. 

Then,  at  the  first  opportunity,  she  had  told  her 
story  and  given  her  opinion  to  the  convalescent  mas- 
ter of  the  Cliffs,  who,  in  her  judgment,  was  entitled 
to  the  first  information. 

Tudor  Here  ward's  "wish"  was  certainly  "father  to 
the  thought"  when  he  gave  so  ready  a  credence  to 
old  Adah's  story,  and  called  his  two  oldest  and  most 


28  LILITH 

faithful  friends  into  counsel  as  to  the  best  means  of 
ascertaining  the  truth. 

And  they,  without  committing  themselves  to  any 
positive  opinion — for,  in  such  a  case,  they  could  have 
no  just  grounds  for  entertaining  one — had  pledged 
their  words  to  leave  "no  stone  unturned"  for  discov- 
ering the  truth. 

To  do  so,  they  knew  that  they  must  search  for 
clews  for  both  the  missing  women. 

And  they  searched  long,  thoroughly,  but  fruitlessly, 
until  near  the  end  of  May. 

They  ascertained  from  the  accounts  of  the  ticket 
agent  at  Frosthill  that  two  passengers  only  had 
bought  tickets  for  the  midnight  express  on  that  fatal 
21st  of  March.  One  was  a  ruffianly  young  man,  he — • 
the  agent — was  sure,  but  the  other  he  could  not  de- 
scribe at  all. 

Now  who  were  those  two  passengers? 

The  uttermost  efforts  of  our  amateur  detectives 
failed  to  discover.  They  could  find  no  one  in  the 
village  or  in  the  surrounding  country  who  had  taken 
the  train  that  night. 

The  "ruffianly  young  man"  mentioned  by  the  ticket 
agent  was  probably  the  husband  of  the  poor  gyp?y 
girl;  but  who  was  the  other  passenger?  Was  she 
his  wrife,  traveling  with  him,  as  they  had  set  out  from 
the  hut  to  do,  or  was  it  Lilith,  who  was  a  mere  ac- 
cidental fellow-passenger? 

No  one  could  tell. 

And  so  the  time  passed  in  fruitless  search  and  heart- 
sickening  suspense,  until  late  in  May,  when  one  morn- 
ing, as  Dr.  Kerr  was  seated  in  his  office,  the  door 
opened  and  a  stranger  entered. 

The  doctor,  believing  the  visitor  to  be  a  patient, 
arose  and  offered  him  a  chair. 

"Thank  you,  sir.     I  dare  say  you  are  surprised  to 


LILITH  £9 

see  me,  sir,"  said  the  man,  as  he  seated  himself,  took 
off  his  hat  and  wiped  his  face. 

"Not  at  all.  Strangers  sometimes  honor  me  with 
a  call,"  blandly  replied  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  I  know,  for  medical  advice,  with  a  fee  in 
their  hands,  and  then  they  have  a  right  to  come,  and 
you  are  glad  to  see  them.  But  I  don't  want  any  medi- 
cal advice  whatever,  and  I  haven't  brought  any  fee; 
and  that's  the  reason  why  I  am  afraid  you  will  think 
I  am  intruding." 

"Not  at  all,  if  I  can  serve  you  in  any  way,"  politely 
replied  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  but  you  can't  even  do  that!  I  don't  stand  in 
need  of  services." 

"Then  will  you  kindly  enlighten  me  as  to  the  circum- 
stance to  which  I  am  indebted  for  this  honor?"  in- 
quired the  doctor,  with  a  smile  of  amusement. 

"Do  you  mean  to  ask  what  brought  me  here?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please." 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  I  should  have  to  do 
it  anyway,  because  that  is  what  I  came  for.  My  name 
is  Carter,  and  I  came  from  Maryland." 

"Yes?"  smiled  the  doctor. 

"And  have  been  traveling  through  the  country  here 
looking  for  land." 

"Quite  so,  and  you  have  found  a  great  deal." 

"I  mean,  and  to  buy.  I  hear  that  tand  is  very  good 
and  cheap  about  here  and  the  climate  very  healthy." 

"All  quite  true;  but  I  fear  I  cannot  help  you  in  the 
least  in  that  matter.  You  had  better  take  counsel  with 
Lawyer  Jordon,  who  acts  as  land  agent  occasionally," 
said  the  doctor. 

"Did  I  ask  you  to  help  me?  I  told  you  first  off  that 
I  didn't  want  any  service." 

"Then  what  in  the  name  of " 

"Sense  have  I  come  for?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please." 


SO  LILITH 

"Why,  I  am  telling  you,  man!  Being  in  search,  of  a 
suitable  farm,  I  have  been  traveling  about  these  parts 
considerable.  Last  night  I  came  here  and  put  up  at 
'The  Stag.'  Good  house  that!" 

"Pretty  good.    Yes." 

"Well,  I  did  hear  of  a  rum  case.  The  body  of  that 
young  woman  being  found,  and  there  being  a  dis- 
tressing doubt  whether  it  be  that  of  young  Mrs.  Tudor 
Hereward,  who  disappeared  from  the  neighborhood 
on  the  21st  of  last  March,  or  that  of  a  little  gypsy 
tramp,  who  bore  a  great  personal  resemblance  to  that 
lady,  and  who  was  suspected  of  having  been  made 
way  with  by  her  ruffian  of  a  husband!" 

"Yes,  yes,"  eagerly  exclaimed  the  doctor,  all  his 
listless  indifference  vanished.  "Yes!  You  have  heard 
of  that  affair.  You  have  been  traveling  about  in  this 
region.  Is  it  possible  that  you  may  be  able  to  throw 
some  light  on  that  dark  subject?" 

"I  think  I  may;  that  is  what  has  brought  ine  here 
this  morning.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  gone  out  to 
the  place  they  call  the  Cliffs  to  see  Mr.  Tudor  Here- 
ward  himself;  but  they  told  me  it  was  a  matter  of 
six  miles  from  the  village,  and  that  perhaps  I  had 
better  see  you,  as  you  were  interested;  and  so  here 
I  am." 

"I  am  very  glad  you  did.  Now  tell  me  quickly 
what  you  have  to  tell,  for  I  am  extremely  anxious  to 
hear,"  said  the  doctor,  eagerly. 

"Wait  a  bit!  Let  us  see  how  the  land  lies  first. 
You  say  young  Mrs.  Hereward  and  the  gypsy  girl 
looked  alike?" 

"In  size,  figure,  and  the  unusual  length  and  beauty 
of  their  hair — yes!" 

"And  that  both  disappeared  from  the  neighborhood 
the  same  night.  At  least  so  I  heard  from  the  talk  at 
the  Stag." 

"It  was  true." 


LILITH  31 

"And  a  young  woman's  body  was  found  near  the 
creek  a  month  afterwards?" 

"Yes." 

"But  so  far  gone  that  it  could  not  be  identified  ex- 
cept by  the  clothing?" 

"True." 

"And  that  clothing  was  recognized  as  having  been 
young  Mrs.  Hereward's?" 

"Yes." 

"And  that  proved  to  the  coroner's  jury  the  body 
to  be  also  young  Mrs.  Hereward's." 

"Yes." 

"Until  a  certain  old  woman  comes  with  a  tale  that 
young  Mrs.  Hereward  gave  those  clothes  to  the  gypsy 
girl?" 

"You  have  a  correct  account." 

"And  so  the  doubt  remains,  which  of  the  two  miss- 
ing women  was  killed  and  thrown  into  the  creek,  and 
which  levanted  from  the  neighborhood?" 

"Yes,  that  is  the  situation  at  present.  Can  you 
help  us  to  clear  up  the  doubt?"  anxiously  inquired 
the  doctor. 

"Well,  I  rather  reckon  I  can  clear  it  up  pretty  de- 
cidedly, if  not  satisfactorily." 

"What  do  you  mean?    Speak!" 

"You  were  much  interested  in  young  Mrs.  Here- 
ward?" 

"I  was  very  much  attached  to  her,  having  known 
her  from  her  infancy." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  I  am  going  to  grieve  you.  I 
am  indeed,"  said  the  man,  gravely  and  hesitatingly. 

"Oh,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"It  was  that  young  gypsy  girl  who  took  the  train 
at  Frosthill  at  midnight  of  March  21st,"  said  Carter, 
in  a  low  tone. 

The  doctor  stared  gravely  for  a  moment,  and  then 
inquired : 


32  LILITH 

"How  do  .you  know  this?" 

"Because  I  was  on  that  very  same  train,  and  sat 
in  that  very  same  car  along  with  her." 

"Man!  Is  this  undoubtedly  true?"  demanded  the 
doctor. 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  then  you 
will  see  that  it  is  true.  I  took  the  train  at  West- 
bourne  and  traveled  on  until  we  got  to  Frosthill, 
which  it  reached  at  midnight,  and  where  it  stopped 
for  one  minute.  Two  passengers  got  on — a  young 
man  who  looked  like  a  young  devil,  saving  your  pres- 
ence, he  had  such  a  dark,  scowling,  lowering  face. 
He  was  clothed  in  a  rough  overcoat,  and  had  his 
hands  thrust  into  his  pockets,  and  never  offered  the 
least  assistance  to  the  young  woman,  who  came  creep- 
ing and  cowering  behind  him.  I  couldn't  help  but 
notice  them  both,  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  they  were 
man  and  wife,  and  that  they  had  had  a  row,  in  which 
the  woman,  of  course,  had  come  off  second  best.  !Ue] 
looked  so  wicked  and  sullen,  and  she  so  frightened 
and  broken-hearted.  He  just  threw  himself  into  i? 
seat,  and  stretched  out  his  legs  over  the  top  of  an- 
other one;  and  she  slunk  away  into  a  corner,  anjfli 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall,  and  cried  fit  to  breciJi 
her  heart.  And  he  never  took  any  more  notice  of  her; 
than  if  she  had  been  a  dog.  I  wanted  to  kick  him 
all  around  the  car.  There  was  plenty  of  room  to  do 
it,  too,  because  there  weren't  a  half  a  dozen  people 
in  that  car,  all  told.  I  got  out  at  Snowden,  about 
twenty  miles  farther  on,  where  I  stopped  over  a  day 
to  look  at  a  farm,  and  I  never  thought  any  more  about 
that  ruffian  husband  and  gypsy  wife  until  I  came 
here  to  Frosthill  last  night,  and  heard  the  whole  story 
of  the  mystery  at  the  >£M&g.  And  then  I  thought  I 
would  tell  you  what  I  Had  seen  at  the  Frosthill  sta- 
tion, at  midnight,  on  the  twenty-first  of  March,"  con- 
cluded the  visitor. 


LILITH  33 

"I  thank  you  very  much.  Still,  still,  there  may  be 
ground  for  a  faint  hope.  How  was  this  girl  whom 
you  saw  in  the  man's  company  dressed,  do  you  re- 
member?" inquired  the  doctor,  with  increased  un- 
easiness. 

"Oh,  yes;  I  remember  quite  well.  She  was  clothed 
in  a  red  suit,  with  something  dark  about  her  head 
and  shoulders.  And  Mrs.  Hereward  was  in  deep 
mourning,  they  say,  for  her  father." 

"Yes,  she  was,"  said  the  doctor,  as  the  faint  hope 
died  away.  "And  this  red  suit,"  he  added,  mentally, 
"was,  of  course,  the  very  suit  that  she  used  to  wear 
before  she  went  in  mourning,  and  which,  of  course, 
she  must  have  given  to  the  girl  in  preference — upon 
every  account  of  economy  and  fitness — to  giving  her 
a  black  one." 

While  the  doctor  was  turning  these  hopeless 
thoughts  over  in  his  mind  the  visitor  arose  and  said: 

"Well,  sir,  I  have  told  you  all  I  came  to  tell,  and 
now  I  must  go.  But  I  shall  be  in  this  neighborhood 
for  a  few  days  longer,  if  anybody  wants  to  ask  me 
any  questions  about  this  matter." 

The  doctor  also  arose  and  said: 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Carter,  for  the  trouble  you  are 
taking,  and  shall,  perhaps,  have  occasion  to  see  you 
again.  You  will  be  at  the  Stag?" 

"Yes,  mostly,  for  the  rest  of  this  week;  but  I  shall 
be  riding  round  a  good  deal  in  the  daytime,  looking 
at  land,  but  always  at  home — leastways  at  the  hotel 
— at  night,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  or  any  one 
you  send.  Good-morning,  sir." 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Carter." 

And  the  visitor  left. 

The  doctor  sat  ruminating  over  what  he  had  heard 
for  some  time  after  he  had  been  left  alone. 

At  length,  when  his  office  hours  were  over,  instead 
of  taking  his  noontide  meal  and  rest  as  a  prepara- 


34  LILITH 

tion  for  his  afternoon  round  of  professional  visits,  lie 
rang  for  his  servant,  ordered  his  horse,  and  started 
on  a  ride  to  the  Cliffs. 

He  did  not  go  to  the  mansion  house,  but  taking 
a  narrow  bridle  path  through  the  woods  to  the  creek, 
he  crossed  the  little  rustic  bridge,  and  drew  up  at 
the  log  hut  in  the  thicket  on  the  other  side. 

Here  he  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and 
went  up  to  the  door,  where  he  found  old  Adah  sit- 
ting in  the  sun,  and  busy  with  her  knitting. 

"Well,  auntie,  how  is  the  rheumatism  to-day?"  he 
inquired  cheerfully,  as  the  old  woman  stood  up  and 
courtesied. 

"T'anky,  Marse  Doctor,  sah.  Dis  warm  sun  hab 
melted  it  all  out'n  my  bones.  'Deed  it's  de  trufe. 
Will  you  come  inter  de  house,  Marse  Doctor,  or  take 
a  chair  out  yere?"  she  inquired,  politely. 

"I  will  stay  out  here,"  replied  the  doctor,  as  he 
settled  himself  on  a  little  bench  outside  the  door. 

"Have  anyfing  been  j^eard  'bout  po'  dee  Miss  Lilif, 
Marse  Doctor?"  anxiously  questioned  old  Adah. 

"No.  Not  since  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's  jury," 
significantly  replied  Dr.  Kerr. 

"Oh,  Lor',  Marse  Doctor,  dat  want  nuffin.  Dat 
hadn'  nuffin  to  do  long  ob  Miss  Lilif.  Dat  war  de 
gypsy  gal  wot  war  foun'  in  dem  woods,  and  war  sot 
on  by  dat  jury.  I  done  tole  Marse  Tudor  Her' ward 
all  bout  dat  a  mont'  ago,"  said  old  Adah,  speaking 
with  the  utmost  confidence. 

"Yes;  I  have  heard  so  from  Mr.  Hereward  him- 
self. I  know  all  the  evidence  you  have  brought  for- 
ward in  rebuttal  of  the  evidence  given  before  the 
coroner.  I  would  to  Heaven  it  had  been  as  conclu- 
sive as  you  thought.  But  we  will  not  go  into  that. 
I  only  wish  to  ask  you  a.  few  questions." 

"Go  on  Marse  Doctor.  I'll  answer  de  trufe.  I  ain't 
got  no  secrets  from  nobody." 


LILITH  35 

"Well,  then,  did  you  see  the  clothing  worn  by  the 
gypsy  girl  on  the  night  she  left  the  hut  in  company 
with  her  husband?" 

"Yes,  Marse  Doctor,  I  did.  I  yeard  her  say  how 
Missis  Her'ward  had  gib  it  to  her,  an'  I  seed  her  put 
it  on,  an'  tie  her  ole  close — nuffin  but  duds  dey  was — 
in  a  bundle." 

"What  was  the  color  of  those  clothes?" 

"Dem  wot  she  took  off  an'  tied  into  a  bundle?" 

"No,  no;  those  given  her  by  Mrs.  Hereward." 

"Oh!  dose  as  she  wo'  'way?" 

"Yes." 

"Wot  was  it  yer  ax  me  'bout  'em,  Marse  Doctor?" 

"I  asked  you  what  color  they  were?" 

"Oh!    Dey  was  sort  o'  dark." 

"Dark  red?" 

"Now,  dey  mought  o'  been.  Or  dey  mought  o'  been 
dark  blue  or  dark  black.  You  see,  Marse  Doctor,  it 
was  sort  o'  dark  in  de  house,  an'  it  made  eberyfing 
look  dark." 

"Had  you  no  light?" 

"Nuffin'  but  a  tallow  dip — dat  didn'  show  much." 

"And  you  can't  be  certain  about  the  color  of  the 
clothing?" 

"No,  Marse  Doctor;  on'y  it  were  dark.  I  sort  o' 
fought  it  were  dark  black,  but  I  dessay  it  were  dark 
red,  jes'  as  you  say." 

The  doctor  asked  a  few  more  questions,  and  then 
arose  to  depart.  He  put  a  half  dollar  into  the  hand 
of  the  old  woman,  who  thanked  him  heartily.  And 
then  he  remounted  his  horse  and  rode  away  along 
the  same  bridle-path  that  led  back  through  the 
thicket  to  the  little  bridge  crossing  the  creek,  and  by 
a  circuit  through  the  next  woods  up  to  the  mansion 
house. 

He  found  Tudor  Hereward  walking  up  and  down 
on  the  front  piazza.  He  had  convalesced  so  very 


36  LILITH 

slowly  that  he  had  not  yet  been  strong  enough  to  take 
a  ride. 

Hereward  dropped  heavily  into  a  chair  as  the  doctor 
dismounted,  threw  his  bridle  to  Steve,  who  came  up 
to  take  it,  and  walked  up  the  steps. 

"Any  news,  doctor?"  anxiously  inquired  Mr.  Here- 
ward. 

"Not  a  trace  of  Lilith  yet.  No,  I  did  not  come  to 
bring  news,  but  to  make  a  few  investigations  here  in 
the  house  that  may  lead  to  something." 

"Very  well,  doctor;  you  have  carte  blanche.  But 
what  is  the  nature  of  the  Investigation  in  this  in- 
stance?" wearily  inquired  ^ereward. 

"Into  the  wardrobe  r  ^our  wife,  to  see  what  is  miss- 
ing, and  what  is  left." 

Hereward  sighed,  as  if  he  were  very  weary  of  a 
hopeless  subject  and  then  faintly  replied: 

"Why,  you  know  that  has  been  done,  thoroughly, 
and  there  is  nothing  missing  but  the  one  black  water- 
proof cloth  suit  that  was  found  on  the  body  of  that 
poor  murdered  gypsy  girl." 

"And  that  was  Lilith's  usual  walking-dress  when  in 
the  country,  wras  it  not?" 

"Yes,  it  was;  but  she  gave  it  to  that  poor  girl  upon 
whose  dead  body  it  was  found." 

"She  gave  a  suit;  but  you  do  not  know  that  it  was 
the  waterproof  suit  she  gave.  She  would  not  have 
been  likely  to  have  given  the  suit  that  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  wearing,  and  that  she  could  not  very  well  do 
without,"  suggested  the  doctor. 

"Ah!  but  she  did  give  it.  It  was  found  on  the  body 
of  the  girl." 

"You  still  feel  so  sure  that  it  was  the  body  of  the 
gypsy  girl  which  was  found?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  Oh,  doctor,  why  do  you  doubt  it?"  de- 
manded Hereward,  with  the  fretful  querulousness  of 
an  invalid. 


LILITH  37 

"Because  we  cannot  be  sure  until  the  other  miss- 
ing one  is  found.  Until  the  living  one  turns  up  we 
cannot  prove  who  is  the  dead,"  gravely  replied  the 
physician. 

"How  much  proof  do  you  want?  The  dress  that 
Lilith  gave  to  the  gypsy  girl  was  found  on  the  dead 
body." 

"But  you  do  not  know  that  the  black  waterproof 
cloth  was  the  dress  that  was  given  by  Lilith  to  the 
girl.  I  repeat,  that  it  was  not  likely  that  Lilith  should 
have  given  a  vay  a  suit  that  was  so  necessary  to  her 
own  comfort,  when  she  r-'jrbt  have  given  others." 

"But  that  is  the  only  one  /nissing  from  her  ward- 
robe." 

"The  only  one  missing  from  her  wardrobe?" 

"Yes.    I  have  told  you  so  twice  before." 

"Then,  if  Lilith  is  living,  what  dress  did  she  wear 
when  she  left  home?"  significantly  inquired  the  doctor. 

Hereward  started,  turned  paler  than  before,  and 
stared  fixedly  at  the  questioner.  He  had  never  asked 
himself  that  question.  He  stared,  but  did  not  speak. 

"Tudor,  my  dear  boy,  we  must  look  facts  in  the 
face.  And  now  I  ask  you,  was  the  discarded  ward- 
robe of  your  wife  examined  when  the  investigation 
was  made?" 

"The  discarded  wardrobe?"  questioned  Hereward, 
with  a  perplexed  look. 

'"Yes;  I  mean  the  colored  clothing  that  she  left 
off  and  packed  away  when  she  went  into  mourning 
for  your  father?" 

"Of  course  it  was  not  touched.  She  would  not 
have  been  likely  to  wear  colored  clothing  in  her  deep 
mourning." 

"No,  of  course  she  would  not.  But  she  would  have 
been  very  likely  to  give  that  left-off  colored  clothing 
to  the  gypsy  instead  of  the  mourning  suit,  which 
would  have  been  unsuitable  to  the  girl." 


38  LILITH 

Again  Hereward  started,  changed  color  and  gazed 
at  the  speaker,  but  without  uttering  a  word. 

"Come,  Hereward,  let  us  send  for  Nancy  and  have 
her  search  through  her  mistress'  left-off  clothing,  to 
see  if  any  portion  of  it  is  missing.  Shall  I  ring?" 
inquired  the  doctor. 

"If  you — please,"  faltered  the  young  man,  sinking 
back  into  his  chair. 

Dr.  Kerr  rang  the  door-bell  which  was  soon  an- 
swered by  Alick,  who  had  reinstated  himself  in  his 
place  as  butler  at  the  Cliffs,  but  who  was  still  a  poor, 
broken-hearted  old  man,  grieving  for  his  young 
mistress,  and  accusing  himself  of  being  her  murderer. 

"Go  and  tell  Nancy  to  come  here,"  said  Dr.  Kerr. 

Alick  ducked  his  head  and  disappeared. 

Nancy  soon  stood  in  his  place. 

"Aunty,"  said  the  doctor,  speaking  for  his  young 
friend  and  patient,  "I  wish  you  to  open  all  Mrs.  Here- 
ward's  boxes  of  colored  clothing,  and  examine  every 
article  and  find  out  if  any  be  missing." 

"Berry  well,  sah,"  said  the  woman,  turning  and 
going  to  do  her  errand. 

The  doctor  followed  her  into  the  house,  went  to 
the  corner  buffet  in  Lilith's  parlor,  and  took  out  a 
certain  liqueur  case,  opened  it,  and  proceeded  to  mix 
a  strong,  restorative  cordial,  which  he  brought  out 
and  placed  on  the  stand  beside  Hereward's  chair, 
saying: 

"Drink  half  of  that  now,  Hereward,  and  leave  the 
rest." 

The  young  man  obeyed,  and  then,  as  he  put  down 
the  half  emptied  glass,  he  inquired: 

"What  is  it  that  you  expect  to  prove  by  this  new 
search,  doctor?" 

"Wait  and  see,  dear  boy!  I  do  not  yet  know  what 
myself." 


LILITH  39 

About  half  an  hour  passed,  and  Nancy  came  down- 
stairs. 

"Well,  auntie,  have  you  missed  anything?"  inquired 
Dr.  Kerr. 

"Yes,  Marse  Doctor.  Miss  Lilifs  red  cashmere 
dress,  w'ich  was  her  mos'  favorite  home  dress,  an' 
w'ich  she  wo'  de  werry  day  'fo'  she  was  marr'd,  an' 
'fo'  ole  marse  died,  an'  nebber  wored  since  den." 

"And  are  you  sure  it  is  gone?" 

"Yes,  Marse  Doctor,  sure,  'cause  I  knowed  whey 
I  packed  it  away,  an'  nobody  ebber  went  to  dat  trunk 
'cept  it  was  me  an'  Miss  Lilif." 

"And  what  do  you  think  has  become  of  it,  Nancy?" 

"Well,  Marse  Doctor,  I  s'pose  as  po'  dee  Miss  Lilif 
give  it  to  dat  po'  gal  wot  come  beggin'.  I  know  she 
did  give  her  a  bundle  of  close,  'caze  I  helped  dat  gal 
to  carry  dat  bundle  t'rough  de  woods  an'  'cross  de 
crik  to  ole  Aunt  Adah's  house." 

"Did  you  see  what  was  in  the  bundle,  Nancy?" 

"No,  Marse  Doctor,  not  I.  I  warn't  upstairs  in 
Miss  Lilifs  room  w'en  she  give  'way  dem  close,  I 
war  downsta'rs  in  de  store  room  packing  ob  a  bas- 
ket wid  tea  an'  sugar,  an'  bread,  an'  meat,  an'  fings, 
to  tote  to  po'  ole  Aunt  Adah,  'cordin'  to  Miss  Lilifs 
orders,  an'  I  nebber  seen  dat  bundle  till  dat  gal 
fotch  it  downsta'rs,  an'  I  nebber  seen  wot  war  in- 
side ob  it;  but  de  gal  tell  me,  as  I  went  along  wid 
her,  how  de  young  madame  had  gib  her  a  good 
dress,  an'  dat  it  must  a  been  dat  red  cashmere  dress 
wot  de  young  mist'ess  couldn'  wear  herse'f,  'stead  of 
bein'  de  black  mournin'  dress  wot  she  could  wear; 
let  alone  de  fac'  dat  de  young  gal  wouldn't  a-liked 
to  'cepted  a  mournin'  dress,  not  bein'  in  no  mournin'. 
It  wouldn't  a  been  lucky." 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  doctor.  "It  was  the  red 
cashmere  dress  that  Mrs.  Hereward  gave  to  the  girl, 


40  LILITH 

and  that  the  girl  wore  when  she  left  the  neighbor- 
hood that  night." 

"Oh,  most  merciful  Heaven,  doctor!  Do  you  mean 
to  knock  from  under  me  the  last  prop  of  hope  that 
sustains  me?"  groaned  Hereward,  sinking  back  pale 
and  faint  as  any  woman  might  have  looked  at  such 
a  crisis. 

"Hush,  Tudor!  Drink  this,"  said  Dr.  Kerr,  plac- 
ing the  glass  of  restorative  cordial  to  his  lips. 

Hereward  emptied  the  glass,  and  the  doctor  set  it 
down,  and  continued: 

"I  deprive  you  of  no  real  hope,  Tudor,  but  of  a 
false  hope  which,  instead  of  being  a  prop  to  support 
you,  is  a  burden  that  is  wearing  you  out  with  anxiety. 
The  sooner  you  give  up  all  hope  the  sooner  you  will 
be  able  to  resign  yourself  to  the  inevitable  and  find 
peace  and  rest  for  your  spirit." 

"But  I  cannot!  I  cannot  resign  all  hope!  I  can- 
not!" passionately  exclaimed  the  young  man. 

"Listen  to  me  further.  Hear  all  that  I  have  to  say 
and  you  must  do  so,"  gravely  and  tenderly  replied 
the  doctor. 

"What  have  you  to  tell  me  now?  You  said  you 
had  no  news  to  bring  me  of  Lilith.  You  said  so  when 
you  first  came  in  and  I  asked  you  the  question." 

"And  I  spoke  the  truth,"  patiently  replied  the  old 
man.  "I  had  no  news  of  Lilith.  But  I  had  news  of 
the  gypsy  girl,  which — ah  me! — leaves  me  no  doubt 
as  to  whose  remains  they  were  that  were  found  in 
the  woods." 

"Oh,  Heaven!  Oh,  Heaven!"  groaned  Hereward. 
"But  tell  me  all!  I  can  bear  it!  Yes,  I  can  bear  it!'' 

"There  is  a  man  by  the  name  of  Carter  now  stop- 
ping at  the  Stag,  who  was  in  the  train  at  midnight 
of  March  21st,  wrhen  the  strolling  player  and  his 
gypsy  wife  got  on  board.  He  was  a  sullen  ruffian  in 
coarse  clothing.  She  a  pretty,  dark-eyed  gypsy? 


LILITH  41 

with  black  hair,  and  she  was  dressed  in  a  red  suit, 
with  something  dark  about  her  head  and  shoulders. 
They  were  the  only  people  who  got  in  that  train  at 
Frosthill.  They  had  been  quarreling,  and  the  man 
had  a  scowling,  ferocious  look,  while  the  wToman 
seemed  terrified  and  broken-hearted.  Does  not  this 
coincide  perfectly  with  all  that  we  have  heard  about 
the  poor  girl  and  her  ruffianly  companion?"  gently 
inquired  the  doctor. 

Hereward  replied  only  by  a  groan. 

"Come,  Tudor!  I  must  take  you  upstairs.  You 
must  lie  down,  and  I  will  send  Cave  to  you,"  said  the 
doctor,  with  gentle  firmness. 

But  it  was  with  considerable  difficulty  that  the  doc- 
tor finally  prevailed  on  his  deeply  stricken  patient 
to  seek  the  rest  and  retirement  of  his  own  chamber. 

Then  Dr.  Kerr,  leaving  Xancy  in  charge  of  the  sick- 
room, went  downstairs,  got  into  his  saddle  and  rode 
off,  dinnerless,  to  make  a  round  of  professional  visits 
on  a  circuit  of  at  least  thirty  miles.  It  was  very 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  finally  reached  Frost- 
hill. 

Even  then,  before  going  home,  he  stopped  at  the 
rectory  and  had  half  an  hour's  interview  with  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Cave,  in  which  he  told  the  latter  of  all  the 
news  he  had  received  and  all  the  discoveries  he  had 
made  concerning  the  fate  of  Lilith,  during  the  day. 
He  ended  by  asking  the  rector  to  go  with  him  to  the 
Stag  to  see  and  question  Carter. 

Mr.  Cave  put  on  his  hat  and  walked  with  Dr.  Kerr 
the  short  distance  that  lay  between  the  rectory  and 
the  hotel. 

They  found  Carter  smoking  in  the  little  reading- 
room.  He  willingly  accompanied  the  gentlemen  to 
the  parlor,  at  their  request,  and  closeted  there,  he 
readily  answered  every  question  put  to  him,  but, 


42  LILITH 

after  all,  they  elicited  nothing  more  than  had  been 
told  to  the  doctor  that  morning. 

At  the  end  of  the  interview  they  thanked  Carter 
and  took  leave  of  him. 

"And,  after  all,"  sighed  Mr.  Cave,  "the  verdict  of 
the  coroner's  jury  was  right." 

"Yes,"  assented  the  doctor,  "it  was  right!  And 
now  I  do  not  think  we  have  far  to  look  for  the  das- 
tardly murderer  of  Lilith  Hereward." 

"Whom  do  you  suspect?"  inquired  the  rector,  in  a 
low,  awe-stricken  voice. 

"The  ruffian  husband  of  the  gypsy  girl  who  was  on 
the  creek  the  same  night  of  her  death." 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    STARTLING   VISIT 

EARLY  next  morning  Mr.  Cave,  in  accordance  with 
the  request  of  Dr.  Kerr,  went  to  the  Cliffs  to  spend 
the  day  with  Tudor  Hereward.  He  found  the  young 
man  too  ill  to  leave  his  room,  seated  in  a  reclining- 
chair  near  the  open  window. 

The  effects  of  alternate  hope  and  fear  ending  at 
last  in  despair  deepened  by  remorse. 

Mr.  Cave  sat  down  beside  him  and  essayed  to  com- 
fort him;  but  he  did  not  succeed.  Loss,  sorrow  and 
disappointment  may  be  consoled,  but  remorse  and 
despair  are  beyond  comfort. 

"The  truest,  gentlest,  fondest  child  that  ever 
blessed  man  I  drove  out  that  bitter  night  to  meet  her 
cruel  death!  It  is  that  which  is  killing  me,"  he  said, 
in  reply  to  Mr.  Cave's  well  meant  efforts  to  rouse  and 
cheer  him. 

"You  are  morbid,  Hereward.    You  are  too  severe 


LILITH  43 

on  yourself.  You  are  not  rational  and  consistent. 
You  should  remember,  my  dear  friend,  you  did  not 
mean  to  drive  her  away." 

"Ah,  but  the  taunting,  insulting,  unpardonable 
words  I  hurled  at  her,  heaped  upon  her  head,  over- 
whelming her — no  true  woman  could  have  borne 
them!  If  she  had  been  the  creature  I  suspected  and 
accused  her  of  being,  she  might  have  borne  them 
and  remained  here  for  profit;  but  Lilith  had  no  alter- 
native but  to  leave  the  house!  And  I  drove  her  from 
it  as  surely  as  if  I  had  taken  her  by  the  shoulders 
and  put  her  out  and  turned  the  key  against  her!" 

"I  do  not  think  you  should  consider  it  in  that  light. 
Besides,  for  the  wrords  you  used,  you  would  do  wisely 
to  remember  now  the  provocation  you  received," 
gravely  suggested  Mr.  Cave. 

''Not  from  her!  Not  from  Lilith!  She  was  ever 
true,  meek,  gentle  and  wonderfully  self-controlled  for 
a  being  so  young.  No!  I  never  received  provocation 
from  that  child,"  said  Hereward,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"Then  from  false  appearances! — false  appearances 
which  would  have  driven  a  much  older  and  wiser  man 
than  you  quite  beside  himself." 

"But  against  which  I  should  have  set  Lilith's  life 
and  character  then — as  I  do  now.  No,  Mr.  Cave,  you 
need  not  talk  to  me  of  comfort.  I  will  not  receive  it!" 

"Ah,  Tudor,  you  hug,  cherish,  and  cultivate  your 
sorrow." 

"Not  my  sorrow!  Sorrow  is  a  matter  of  time,  and 
it  may  be  consoled.  But  remorse  is  a  thing  of  eter- 
nity, never  to  be  comforted." 

"You  seem  to  nourish  this  remorse  as  a  matter  of 
duty  and  conscience." 

"Yes,  I  do.    I  will  not  take  comfort." 

"Tudor,  my  dear  boy,  there  never  was  a  case  of 
insanity  in  either  branch  of  your  family.  Their  brains 
were  too  strong  and  too  well  balanced,  else  I  should 


44  LILITH 

fear  for  you.  But  at  any  rate  you  really  must  go 
away  from  this  place,"  said  the  minister,  very 
earnestly. 

"  Well,  and  if  I  should,  it  would  be  only  to  wander 
over  the  earth  as  aimlessly  and  drearily  as  the  legen- 
dary Jew,"  replied  the  young  man. 

Mr.  Cave  remained  with  him  until  nearly  dark,  and 
then  went  away,  promising  to  come  and  see  the  soli- 
tary mourner  in  a  very  few  days. 

The  next  morning  the  invalid,  with  the  assistance 
of  the  two  men-servants,  got  downstairs  and  into 
the  front  piazza,  where  he  sat  in  his  favorite  reclin- 
ing-chair,  with  a  little  stand  beside  him. 

He  was  still  sitting  there  alone,  gazing  vacantly 
out  upon  the  lovely  summer  scene  of  mountain,  valley, 
woods  and  waters  spread  out  before  him,  when  the 
sound  of  a  strange  footstep,  a  firm  and  ringing  foot- 
step, fell  upon  his  ear. 

In  another  moment  the  figure  of  a  young  man, 
dressed  as  a  gentleman,  emerged  from  the  footpath 
through  the  alder  bushes,  and  came  into  view. 

In  that  moment,  with  a  start  of  surprise,  Here- 
ward  recognized  the  form  and  face  of  Mr.  Alfred 
Ancillon. 

The  young  wanderer  came  up  the  steps,  and  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  pale  and  fainting  invalid,  took  off 
his  hat,  and  in  a  stern  voice  demanded — as  if  he  had 
the  most  sacred  right  to  demand: 

"Tudor  Hereward!    Where  is  Lilith?" 

"Lilith!  How  dare  you  utter  that  name! — the  name 
of  the  lady  whose  destruction  you  have  compassed?" 
faintly  yet  indignantly  demanded  Hereward. 

"No!  not  I,  sir!  I  never  wounded  her  by  a  word! 
I  never  wronged  her  by  a  thought!  Your  senseless 
jealousy  has  wrought  all  this  ruin!  Only  ten  days 
ago,  in  the  remote  Southwestern  town  where  I  was 
fulfilling  an  engagement,  did  I  happen  to  pick  up  an 


LILITH  45 

old  copy  of  the  New  York  Pursuii'ant,  and  read  the 
account  of  her  dead  bodv  having  been  found  three 
weeks  after  she  had  disappeared  from  her  home!  I 
threw  up  my  engagement  and  came  here  with  all 
speed,  for  well  I  guessed  that  you,  and  you  only,  had 
the  secret  of  her  disappearance  and  her  death.  For — 
*  Jealousy  is  as  cruel  as  the  grave!'  " 

"Had  I  no  just  cause  for  jealousy?"  demanded 
Hereward,  thrown  upon  his  defence,  trembling  with 
weakness  and  scarcely  conscious  of  having  instinc- 
tively put  the  question. 

''No! — as  the  Lord  is  my  judge  and  yours!  A  better, 
truer,  purer  woman  than  Lilith  never  lived!  A  holier 
tie  than  that  wrhich  bound  us  never  united  man  and 
woman!"  retorted  Andllon.  "Utterly  blameless, 
though  reckless  folly  and  egotism,  if  not  even  insanity, 
placed  her  in  a  false  position,  created  false  appear- 
ances about  her.  But  should  all  this  have  led  you  to 
suspect  Lilith?  Lilith,  who  was  brought  up  at  your 
good,  wise  father's  feet,  and  by  your  side?  Lilith, 
who  was  so  carefully  trained  in  all  wisdom  and  good- 
ness? Lilith,  whose  religious  and  self-sacrificing  spirit 
you  knew  so  well?  Should  any  false  appearances  have 
shadowed  the  brightness  of  Lilith's  image  in  your 
eyes?" 

"Man!  Hold  your  peace!  I  am  passing  from  earth, 
soon  to  meet  Lilith  in  the  better  world,  if  repentance 
and  faith  can  take  me  there.  I  wish  not  to  quarrel 
with  you  now!" 

"I  will  not  hold  my  peace!  I  came  here  to  ask  you 
-Where  is  Lilith?" 

"And  you  ask  it  in  the  tone  in  which  the  minister 
reads  the  question:  'Cain,  where  is  thy  brother  Abel?' 
Lilith  is  in  her  grave,"  moaned  Hereward. 

"Yes,  she  is.  And  you  have  put  her  there.  You 
have  as  surely  murdered  your  young  wife  as  if  you 
had  plunged  a  Bword  through  her  bosom,  like  that 


*6  LILITH 

black  brute,  Othello,  whom  I  never  could  consider  a 
'noble'  Moor,  and  never  would  personate  to  please 
anybody.  Othello,  when  he  found  out  his  mistake, 
had  the  decency  to  kill  himself — the  only  decent 
thing  he  ever  did  do!  But  you,  Tudor  Hereward — 
the  law  cannot  hang  you  for  driving  your  young 
wife  out  to  death.  Why  have  you  not  had  the  man- 
hood to  hang  yourself?" 

"Man,  spare  your  reproaches!  I  am  passing  from 
earth,  and  if  repentance  and  faith  avail  ine,  going 
to  that  other  world,  where  I  shall  receive  my  dear 
one's  forgiveness.  You  may  spare  your  reproaches, 
as  indeed  I  do  not  know  how,  or  by  what  right,  you, 
of  all  men,  dare  to  make  them,"  said  Hereward,  with 
more  dignity  than  he  had  hitherto  shown. 

"I  speak  by  the  most  sacred  right  that  a  man  could 
have  to  speak,"  solemnly  replied  Ancillon. 

"What  are  you  to  Lilith,  or  what  was  Lilith  to  you? 
A  man  may  not  know  all  his  wife's  relations.  You 
may  be  of  Lilith's  kindred — and,  indeed,  I  notice  a 
likeness  between  your  faces — but  you  cannot  be  of 
very  near  kindred." 

"No?"  queried  Ancillon,  with  a  wistful  look. 

"No!"  repeated  Hereward,  with  more  emphasis 
than  he  had  yet  used  in  speaking — "No!  for  you  are 
not  her  brother.  I  knew  her  father  and  mother; 
they  were  young  people  just  married  a  year  when 
Lilith  was  born.  She  was  not  only  their  first,  but 
their  only  child.  The  father — ah  me! — lost  his  life 
while  rescuing  me  from  drowning,  a  few  days  before 
Lilith  was  born.  Her  mother,  shocked  to  death  by 
the  sudden  bereavement,  gave  birth  to  her  child  and 
died.  My  father  took  the  infant  orphan  from  beside 
the  dead  mother,  and  brought  her  home  to  be  his  own 
adopted  daughter.  So  that  Lilith  was  an  only  child, 
and  you  could  not  be  her  brother." 


LILITH  47 

"No,  I  am  not  her  brother,"  assented  Ancillon,  with 
the  same  wistful  look. 

"And  if  you  are  merely  her  cousin,  or  even  her 
uncle,  the  relationship  in  either  case  would  not  give 
you  the  right  to  take  such  liberties  with  her  name 
and  memory  as  you  have  taken,  and  are  taking  now." 

"But  I  am  not  either  her  uncle  or  her  cousin,"  said 
Ancillou,  with  the  same  inscrutable  look. 

"Then,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  man!  what  are  you, 
that  you  have  dared  to  do  as  you  have  done?"  de- 
manded Hereward,  with  an  excitement  for  which  he 
was  to  pay  in  a  dangerous  reaction  and  depression. 

"Mr.  Hereward,"  said  Ancillon,  with  more  gravity 
than  he  had  lately  exhibited,  "I  came  here  not  only 
to  ask  that  question  which  first  I  put  to  your  con- 
science, but  also  to  place  in  your  possession  a  secret 
that  I  have  hitherto  guarded  with  the  most  jealous 
care,  not  only  for  my  own  sake,  but  even  for  yours, 
and  most  of  all,  for  Lilith's,  that  no  sorrow  should 
come  to  her  gentle  heart,  no  reproach  to  her  spotless 
name ;  but  now  that  she  is  gone  I  care  not  at  all  what 
doom  may  fall  upon  me,  or  what  shame  may  confuse 
you." 

Ancillon  paused  and  smiled  grimly. 

"Speak,  man!  Speak,  man — speak!  What  is  it  you 
would  tell  me?"  demanded  Hereward,  trembling  with 
agitation. 

"I  would  tell  you  nothing!" 

"Nothing?" 

"Nothing;  for  you  might  not  believe  my  words.  Bat 
I  will  give  the  means  of  discovering  my  secret  for 
yourself — of  learning  my  story,  and  proving  its  truth 
beyond  all  doubt,"  gravely  replied  Ancillon. 

"Well?    Well?    Well?" 

"Do  you  happen  to  know  of  an  old  trunk,  the  prop- 
erty of  Lilith's  parents,  filled  with  family  relics  and 
correspondence,  bundles  of  yellow  letters,  photo- 


48  LILITH 

graphs,  trinkets,  prayer-books,  Bibles,  old  diaries, 
newspapers,  pamphlets,  and  other  rubbish?  Do  you 
happen  to  know  of  such  a  depository?" 

"I  think  I  do,"  said  Hereward,  reflectingly.  "Yes; 
I  am  sure  I  do,"  he  added,  confidently. 

"It  seems  to  have  been  packed  and  preserved  by 
your  father's  orders,  after  the  death  of  Lilith's  mother 
and  for  the  possible  pleasure  or  benefit  of  Lilith's 
after  life.  Ah,  dear!  It  was  anything  but  a  pleasure 
or  a  benefit  to  the  poor  child.  It  was  never  opened 
from  the  day  it  was  packed  until  the  day  after  your 
father's  funeral,  when  you  had  gone  to  Washington, 
leaving  Lilith  alone  in  this  old  house.  Then,  she  hav- 
ing received  the  key  of  the  trunk  for  the  first  time, 
as  a  legacy  from  your  father,  sent  for  the  trunk  and 
opened  it.  And  then  she  learned  the  dire  secret  of 
her  family,  even  before  she  ever  saw  my  face.  It  was 
an  accident  that  brought  me  to  the  Cliffs,  that  night, 
Mr.  Hereward." 

"I  heard  that  it  was — the  storm " 

"Not  so.  The  storm  kept  me  at  the  Cliffs,  but  did 
not  bring  me  here.  I  was  a  guest  at  Bushmore,  and 
at  the  supper  table  chanced  to  hear,  in  the  gossip  of 
the  ladies,  the  story  of  Lilith  WyviPs  adoption  and 
marriage.  To  me  it  was  a  revelation.  I  determined 
to  see  her.  I  did  so,  and  was  storm-bound  for  a  week 
at  the  Cliffs." 

"Ah!" 

"That  trunk,  Mr.  Hereward,  is  at  your  disposal. 
All  necessary  information  can  be  found  within  it. 
Seek  and  know  and  prove  it,  all  for  yourself!  When 
you  have  done  so,  you  may  deliver  me  over  to  the 
British  authorities  as  a  fugitive  from  justice  and  send 
me  back  to  England,  under  your  favorite  extradition 
treaty — to  penal  servitude  for  life!  I  care  not  one 
farthing  now  that  Lilith  is  gone!" 

"Man!   Man!  in  Heaven's  name,  who  and  what  are 


LILITH  49 

you?"  demanded  Hereward,  pale  and  shaking  with 
emotion. 

"I  am  known  to  the  British  police  authorities  as 
John  Weston,  the  mail  robber;  to  the  keepers  of  Port- 
land prison,  Z.  789;  to  the  play-going  public  as  Mr. 
Alfred  Ancillon,  tragedian,  comedian,  tenor  and 
athlete;  in  diplomatic  circles  in  Washington  as 

Senor  Zuniga,  nephew  of  the  P Minister;  but  to 

Lilith  I  was  known  by  another  name,  and  in  a  sweeter 
relation.  There!  I  have  said  and  done  all  for  which 
I  came  here.  I  am  going  now.  Good-bye!  I  shall 
be  at  the  Antler's  in  Frosthill  all  this  week,  waiting 
your  pleasure;"  and  the  visitor  put  on  his  hat  and 
walked  off  by  the  way  through  which  he  had  come. 

He  had  seen  Mr.  Hereward  drop  back  in  his  chair; 
but  neither  knew  nor,  if  he  had  known,  would  have 
cared  that  the  invalid  had  fallen  into  a  deep  swoon. 

In  this  condition  Dr.  Kerr  found  him  a  few  minutes 
later. 

After  using  prompt  means  for  his  recovery,  and 
seeing  him  open  his  eyes  and  breathe  again,  the  doc- 
tor made  him  swallow  a  cordial,  and  then  asked  him 
what  had  caused  his  swoon. 

"Weakness,  I  suppose,"  evasively  answered  the  in- 
valid. 

The  doctor  took  him  into  the  cool,  shady  drawing- 
room  and  made  him  lie  down  on  the  sofa. 

And  then,  when  his  strength  was  somewhat  re- 
stored by  the  cordial  he  had  swallowed,  the  doctor 
produced  a  large  envelope  with  an  official  stamp,  and 
said: 

"I  brought  this  from  the  post-office  for  you.  I  hope 
it  may  contain  good  news  that  will  rouse  you  up." 

Hereward  thanked  the  doctor,  and,  without  lifting 
his  head  from  the  sofa  pillow,  opened  the  long  en- 
velope and  took  out  a  letter  partly  in  print  and  partly 
in  writing.  His  pale  face  flushed  a  little  as  he  read 


50  LILITH 

the  paper,  and  he  passed  it  over  to  Dr.  Kerr,  say- 
ing: 

"You  see  it  is  a  letter  announcing  my  appointment 
as  secretary  of  legation  to  the  new  embassy  to  the 

court  of ,  and  requiring  me,  in  the  event  of  my 

accepting  the  mission,  to  be  ready  to  sail  with  the 
party  by  the  Kron  Prinz,  on  the  first  of  June." 

"And  you  will  accept  it,  Hereward?  The  sea  voy- 
age and  the  change  will  be  so  good  for  you." 

"Yes,  I  shall  accept  it." 


CHAPTER  V 

LILITH'S  FLIGHT 


Do  you  think,  because  you  fail  me 

And  draw  back  your  hand  to-day, 
That  from  out  the  heart  I  gave  you 

My  strong  love  can  fade  away? 
It  will  live.     No  eyes  may  see  it; 

In  my  soul  it  will  lie  deep, 
Hidden  from  all;  but  I  shall  feel  it 

Often  stirring  in  its  sleep. 
So  remember  that  the  true  love, 

Which  you  now  think  poor  and  vain, 
Will  endure  in  hope  and  patience 

Till  you  ask  for  it  again. 

A.  A.  Proctor. 

WHEN7  Lilith  left  the  presence  of  her  husband  on 
that  fatal  night  of  their  parting,  her  mind  and  heart 
were  in  a  whirl  of  confusion  and  suffering. 

He  had  accused  her  of  unspeakable,  of  incompre- 
hensible evil!  He  had  repudiated  her!  He  had  told 
her  that  in  a  few  hours  he  should  leave  that  house 


LILITH  51 

— his  patrimonial  home — never  to  return  to  it  while 
she  should  "desecrate  it  by  her  presence." 

Her  love  was  wounded  to  the  quick!  Her  pride 
was  trampled  in  the  dust. 

What  remained  for  her  to  do? 

First  of  all  to  leave  the  house  which  he  declared 
that  she  "desecrated  with  her  presence." 

Yes,  that  was  the  first  and  the  most  urgent  duty 
that  she  owed  to  him  who  had  repudiated  her  and 
to  herself,  and  her  own  honor  and  self-respect  as  well. 

It  was  good  to  know  what  first  to  do.  It  saved 
useless  brooding  and  loss  of  time. 

As  soon  as  she  reached  her  room,  therefore,  she 
locked  the  door  to  secure  herself  from  interruption, 
and  then  she  began  to  prepare  for  her  departure. 

For  she  determined  to  go  at  once  and  to  take  with 
her  nothing,  no,  not  the  smallest  trifle,  that  Hereward 
had  ever  given  her. 

So  she  took  off  the  deep  mourning  dress  that  had 
been  one  of  Hereward's  first  gifts,  hung  it  up  in  the 
wardrobe,  and  replaced  it  with  a  crimson  cashmere, 
the  gift  of  his  father,  which  since  Major  Hereward's 
death  had  been  packed  away  with  other  clothing,  left 
off  when  she  first  went  into  black. 

From  the  same  depository  she  took  a  gray  beaver 
cloth  coat,  a  gray  felt  hat,  gray  barege  vail  and  a 
pair  of  grav  gloves.  These  she  laid  out  upon  the 
bed. 

Next  she  took  from  her  casket  the  few  jewels  given 
her  by  her  foster-father,  and  the  few  hundred  dollars 
she  had  saved  from  the  liberal  allowance  Major  Here- 
ward  had  made  her  during  his  life.  All  these,  to- 
gether with  her  comb  and  brushes,  a  few  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs, and  a  single  change  of  underclothing,  she 
packed  into  a  hand-bag. 

When  her  small  preparations  were  all  complete,  it 


52  LILITH 

seemed  to  require  a  painful  wrench  to  tear  herself 
away. 

Her  husband  had  outraged  and  repudiated  her  in- 
deed; yet  she  felt  that  she  could  not  leave  the  house 
without  writing  to  him  a  few  words  of  farewell.  She 
meant  to  write  only  a  very  few  words,  not  half  a 
dozen  lines  in  all,  only  enough  to  remind  him  that  she 
went  not  of  her  own  will,  but  by  his  will. 

Yet,  when  she  sat  down  at  the  table  and  com- 
menced her  letter,  a  flood  of  thought  and  feeling  bore 
her  impetuously  onward  to  a  fuller  utterance,  and 
she  poured  forth  her  soul  in  that  touching,  pathetic, 
yet  dignified  letter  that  he  afterwards  found  upon  her 
dressing-table,  and  which,  after  perusal,  and  with 
reckless  anger,  he  committed  to  the  flames. 

When  she  had  finished  her  task,  sealed  her  letter, 
and  pinned  it  to  the  pin-cushion  where  he  could  not 
fail  to  find  it,  she  put  on  her  gray  beaver  coat,  hat, 
vail  and  gloves,  took  up  her  hand-bag  and  left  the 
room. 

She  paused  for  a  moment  in  the  upper  hall,  and 
looked  over  the  balusters  to  see  if  any  one  were  in 
sight  or  hearing  below. 

But  there  was  no  one.  The  coast  was  clear.  There 
was  no  danger  of  interruption. 

So  Lilith  went  softly  down  the  stairs,  opened  the 
hall  door  and  passed  out  into  the  night. 

The  sky  was  clear  and  the  stars  were  shining 
brightly  down  on  the  snow-covered  earth. 

All  the  servants,  horses  and  carriages  attached  to 
the  place  were  at  the  young  mistress'  order;  but 
she  chose  to  avail  herself  of  none  of  them.  She  would 
walk  to  the  railway  station.  The  clear,  starlit  sky 
and  the  snow-white  earth  rendered  her  road  light 
enough  for  convenience.  As  for  danger,  there  was 
none  of  any  sort.  No  act  of  violence  had  ever  been 
known  to  occur  in  that  primitive,  rural  neighborhood, 


LILITH  53 

which  might  almost  have  been  called  Arcadian  in  its 
simplicity  and  innocence.  She  knew  that  she  could 
easily  walk  the  six  miles  in  two  hours  and  catch  the 
ten  o'clock  train.  So  she  walked  bravely  on  until  she 
came  to  the  outer  gate.  Just  as  she  was  in  the  act 
of  opening  it  she  was  startled  by  a  rushing  sound  be- 
hind her,  and  turning,  saw  Lion,  the  large  Newfound- 
land dog,  at  her  side,  evidently  bent  on  following  her, 

"Yes,  good  dog.  Good,  good  dog,  you  shall  go! 
And  then  if  there  could  be  any  danger  you  would 
guard  me  with  you  life.  Wouldn't  you,  good  dog?" 

Lion  assured  his  mistress,  in  much  eloquent  pan- 
tomime, that  he  was  her  own  devoted  dog  and  would 
die  for  her  if  necessary. 

Lilith  went  on,  the  dog  trotting  by  her  side,  over 
the  stubble  fields,  into  the  dense  forest,  out  again, 
through  the  narrow  mountain  pass,  out  again  into  the 
fields,  and  finally  in  sight  of  the  lights  at  the  railway 
station. 

Here  Lilith  stopped  to  draw  the  vail  more  closely 
around  her  face,  for  she  did  not  wish  to  be  recog- 
nized by  any  acquaintance  who  might  ask  her  ques- 
tions. Here,  too,  she  must  part  with  her  dog.  It 
would  not  be  well  to  take  him  with  her  to  the  rail- 
way station,  either  for  her  sake  or  for  his  own.  So 
she  must  send  him  home;  but  she  wished  to  part 
pleasantly  with  her  fourfooted  friend — not  to  drive 
him  away  from  her,  but  to  send  him  on  an  errand  for 
her;  so  she  opened  her  hand-bag  and  took  off  a  paper 
which  had  been  wrapped  around  her  brushes,  breathed 
into  the  paper,  rolled  it  up  to  a  convenient  size  and 
gave  it  to  the  dog,  putting  it  between  his  jaws,  pat- 
ting him  on  the  head,  turning  him  with  his  nose 
towards  the  Cliffs,  and  saying: 

"Good  dog!     Good  dog!     Good  fellow!     Carry  it 
home!    Carry  it  home!" 


54  LILITH 

And  Lion,  delighted  at  having  an  important  com- 
mission to  execute,  set  off  at  a  run. 

Lilith  dashed  a  tear  from  her  eye  and  hurried  on 
to  the  railway  station.  There  was  not  a  soul  there 
except  the  ticket  agent  and  a  rough-looking  passenger. 

Lilith  knew  exactly  the  price  of  a  ticket  to  Balti- 
more, and  had  her  change  ready.  She  went  into  the 
musty  office,  pushed  the  money  on  the  ledge  of  the 
ticket  window,  and  said,  from  behind  her  vail: 

"One,  to  Baltimore." 

The  agent,  behind  the  partition,  drew  in  the  money 
and  pushed  out  the  ticket,  without  seeing  or  caring 
to  see  whether  the  passenger  standing  aside  in  the 
shadow  were  man,  woman  or  child,  but  taking  a  man 
for  granted. 

Lilith  got  on  the  train  while  the  railway  porters 
were  throwing  off  and  throwing  on  mail  bags,  and  by 
the  time  she  had  dropped  into  her  seat,  midway  in  a 
nearly  empty  car,  the  train  started  again. 

The  car  was  but  dirnly  lighted,  and  there  were  but 
five  other  passengers  in  it  besides  Lilith.  They  were 
all  strangers  to  her — probably  country  merchants  on 
their  way  to  the  Eastern  cities  to  buy  their  Spring 
goods — mostly  clothed  in  heavy  gray  overcoats,  with 
their  hats  pulled  low  over  their  foreheads,  and  their 
hands  thrust  into  their  pockets.  They  seemed  more 
inclined  to  doze  than  to  talk,  and  seldom  spoke,  ex- 
cept to  remark  how  very  cold  the  weather  was,  opine 
that  the  mercury  was  at  zero,  and  declared  that  such 
a  thing  had  never  occurred  in  that  neighborhood  so 
late  in  March  within  the  memory  of  man. 

And  then  they  hugged  their  overcoats  more  closely 
around  them,  pulled  their  hats  down  lower,  and  re- 
lapsed into  silence  and  dozing. 

Lilith,  now  that  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  her 
sudden  departure  was  over,  and  she  was  seated  in 


LILITH  55 

the  car,  with  nothing  to  do,  suffered  a  natural  reaction 
into  depression  and  great  discouragement. 

What  was  before  her?  Whither  should  she  go? 
What  could  she  do?  What  was  to  be  her  future  life? 
Who  were  to  be  her  future  friends  or  companions? 
She  was  leaving  her  old  familiar  home,  leaving  all 
the  friends  of  her  youth,  going  among  perfect 
strangers,  without  one  single  letter  of  introduction  to 
any  one.  What  would  be  the  end? 

Had  she  done  right  to  take  the  responsibility  of 
her  future  into  her  own  young,  inexperienced  hands? 
Would  it  not  have  been  better  to  have  borne  the 
reproach  and  humiliation  she  suffered  at  Cloud  Cliffs, 
and  to  have  remained  there  and  patiently  waited  for 
events?  She  would  at  least  have  been  safe. 

But  in  answer  to  these  thoughts  came  the  memory 
of  her  husband's  cruel  words  hissed  into  her  ears: 

"In  a  few  hours  I  shall  leave  here — leave  my 
father's  house — never  to  return  to  it  while  you  dese- 
crate it  with  your  presence." 

And  she  felt  that  it  was  better  to  go  out  into  the 
bitter  world  of  strangers  than  to  lose  the  last  rem- 
nant of  her  self-respect  by  remaining  in  the  home 
which  her  husband  had  scornfully  declared  that  her 
presence  desecrated. 

Then  Lilith  broke  down  for  the  first  time  since  that 
crushing  blow,  and  wept  bitterly  though  silently  be- 
hind her  vail. 

Her  fellow-passengers  did  not  seem  to  notice  the 
weeping,  or  even  if  they  did,  they  probably  thought 
her  tears  were  only  caused  by  some  ordinary  parting 
with  friends,  a  mere  matter  of  course,  too  trifling  to 
cause  remark  or  sympathy. 

The  motion  of  the  cars  often  has  a  soporific  effect 
upon  passengers,  and  especially  upon  a  woman  travel- 
ing alone  and  at  night.  So  it  came  to  pass  that 
Lilith,  poor,  tired  child  that  she  was,  cried  herself  to 


56  LILITH 

sleep,  and  slept  soundly,  rocked  by  the  swift,  smootft 
motion  of  the  train. 

She  dreamed  a  very  vivid  dream,  that  seemed  a 
very  graphic  reality.  In  her  dream  her  husband  was 
seated  by  her  side,  and  they  were  traveling  to  Wash- 
ington together.  Her  promise  of  secrecy  had  been 
canceled,  and  her  tongue  had  been  loosed  in  some 
strange  way,  possible  only  in  dreams,  and  she  was 
telling  him,  with  her  head  upon  his  bosom  and  her 
arms  around  his  neck,  the  wonderful  story  of  her 
parents'  youthful  life  and  love  and  sorrow,  and  the 
true  story  of  her  own  birth. 

And  he,  holding  her  in  his  arms,  pressed  her  to  his 
heart,  wras  listening  with  such  affection,  sympathy  and 
admiration.  He  was  saying  so  earnestly: 

"And  you,  my  brave  little  darling,  you  have  borne 
all  this  misconstruction,  all  this  humiliation,  rather 
than  betray  your  trust.  But  I  love  you  more  than 
ever  for  all  that  you  have  borne  and  suffered,  my 
Lilith." 

A  shock  startled  Lilith  out  of  her  deep  sleep  and 
dispelled  her  beautiful  dream. 

What  was  this?    Where  was  she? 

On  the  train,  indeed — on  the  train,  that  had  just 
stopped  at  a  crowded  junction  and  taken  on  addi- 
tional cars,  which  had  joined  with  a  shock  that  waked 
her.  But 

Where  was  Tudor? 

Not  seated  by  her  side,  certainly.  Not  even  gone 
out  to  stretch  his  limbs.  Ah,  no!  he  had  vanished 
with  the  dream. 

Again  her  eyes  overflowed  with  tears,  and  she  sat 
back  in  her  seat  and  wept  bitterly  in  the  loneliness 
and  desolation  of  her  heart.  She  missed  the  Tudor 
of  her  lovely  dream.  She  longed  for  him  with  an 
infinite,  agonized  longing.  She  felt  an  almost  irresis- 
tible impulse  to  leave  the  cars  at  that  junction,  and 


LILITH  57 

take  the  next  train  to  her  home,  where  she  could 
arrive  by  morning — where  she  could  throw  herself 
upon  her  husband's  mercy  and  remain  in  peace. 

But  then  again  the  memory  of  his  cruel  words 
pierced  her  through  the  heart,  and  left  her  helpless 
—wounded  to  the  death,  as  it  were.  Those  words 
were  ringing  through  her  spirit: 

"No;  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  never  loved  you!  I 
married  you  only  to  please  my  father!  I  never  loved 
you!  That  dishonor  has  been  spared  me!  In  a  few 
hours  I  shall  leave  this  house — my  father's  house — 
never  to  return  while  your  presence  desecrates  it!" 

Oh,  no!  With  the  sound  of  these  degrading  words 
still  reverberating  through  her  soul,  she  could  not 
go  back  any  more  than  she  could  have  remained  when 
she  was  there. 

The  car  was  now  filled  with  passengers,  and  even 
the  seat  by  her  side  was  taken  by  a  fat  woman  with 
an  immense  bundle  in  her  lap,  who  crowded  Lilith 
close  against  the  side.  She  turned  towards  the 
window,  drew  her  thick  vail  closer  over  her  face,  and 
wept  silently  but  bitterly  until  once  more  overtasked 
nature  yielded  to  weariness  and  to  the  smooth,  swift, 
soothing  motion  of  the  train,  and  she  slept;  this  time 
a  dreamless  sleep,  that  lasted  until  the  train  ran  into 
the  Baltimore  station. 

It  was  now  six  o'clock,  and  the  eastern  horizon  was 
flushed  with  the  coming  sun. 

Lilith  awoke  to  find  the  train  at  a  standstill,  and 
all  the  passengers  in  motion.  She  roused  her  stupe- 
fied faculties  and  realized  that  she  was  at  Baltimore, 
and  that  she  wished  to  continue  her  journey  to  New 
York. 

She  arose  and  took  up  her  hand-bag  and  left  the 
car,  went  to  the  ticket  office  and  inquired  when  the 
next  train  would  leave  for  New  York. 

"At  six-fifteen,"  the  busy  agent  replied. 


58  LILITH 

Lilith  glanced  at  the  large  station  clock.  It  was 
now  five  minutes  past  six.  She  bought  her  ticket, 
got  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  refreshment  counter,  and 
then  followed  the  throng  who  were  crowding  through 
the  gates  to  get  on  the  New  York  train. 

She  got  a  corner  chair  on  a  Pullman  car,  wheeled 
it  around  towards  the  window,  so  that  her  back  would 
be  turned  to  her  fellow-passengers,  and  gave  herself 
up  to  thought. 

She  had  been  driven  from  her  home  in  dishonor, 
and  her  flight  and  the  letter  she  had  left  behind  had 
cut  off  all  retreat,  and  made  a  voluntary  return  im- 
possible. 

What  were  they  doing  at  Cloud  Cliffs  this  morn- 
ing? Her  husband  had  not  probably  received  her 
letter  until  this  morning,  because  he  had  not,  she 
thought,  entered  her  room  during  the  night. 

What  would  he  think  of  her  letter?  How  would 
it  affect  him? 

She  could  not  conjecture,  especially  as  she  could 
not  remember  what  she  had  written,  in  the  white  heat 
of  her  emotions,  when  about  to  leave  him,  perhaps 
forever. 

And  old  Nancy!  What  would  she  think  of  this 
sudden  flight?  Would  Nancy  be  very  sorry  for  her? 
And  the  other  domestics,  who  had  known  and  loved 
her  from  her  babyhood — would  they  care? 

Oh,  yes,  indeed,  she  felt  and  knew  that  all  the  ser- 
vants, old  and  young,  would  grieve  for  her,  and  all 
the  animals  would  miss  her. 

Then  Lilith  fell  to  weeping  again  at  the  thought 
of  all  human  and  brute  that  she  had  loved  so  well, 
and  yet  had  left,  perhaps  forever. 

Her  paroxysm  of  tears  exhausted  itself,  but  her 
distressing  thoughts  continued. 

What  would  the  neighbors  think  or  say  about  her 
disappearance?  They  would  certainly  ask  a  great 


LILITH  59 

many  questions.  Country  people  always  do.  They 
would  question  and  cross-question  Mr.  Hereward. 

How  would  he  answer  them?  Would  he  tell  them 
the  truth,  or  would  he  evade  inquiry?  And  oh,  above 
all,  would  he,  could  he,  be  any  happier  now  that  she 
was  gone?  Would  he  not  sometimes  remember  how 
much  she  had  loved  him?  How  hard  she  had  tried 
to  please  him?  How  diligently  she  had  worked  to 
help  him,  answering  his  letters,  copying  his  speeches, 
searching  out  his  authorities,  and  through  all  this 
secretary  work  keeping  his  one  room  in  the  attic  of 
the  crowded  hotel  neat,  bright  and  attractive,  and  al- 
ways taking  such  pure  delight  in  being  useful  to  him? 
Would  Tudor  remember  these  things,  and  think  more 
kindly  of  her? 

Ah,  no!  for  he  did  not  love  her;  he  had  told  her  so, 
and  thanked  the  Lord  that  he  did  not  love  her!  So 
all  that  she  had  tried  to  do  had  failed  to  please  him. 

Again  the  child  Lilith  wept  as  if  her  heart  were 
breaking;  and  there  was  no  one  to  comfort  her. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LILITH'S  FIDELITY 

LILITH  sat  in  one  corner  of  the  Pullman  car,  with 
her  chair  wheeled  around,  her  shoulders  to  all  her 
fellow-passengers,  and  her  face  fronting  the  large 
mirror  on  the  wall.  She  sat  quite  still,  and  wept 
silently. 

Now  there  happened  to  be  in  the  same  car  a  lady 
who,  in  this  year  of  grace  1882,  might  be  called  a 
Benevolent  Crank;  but  the  term  had  not  been  in- 
vented in  her  time.  She  was  a  large,  rosy-cheeked, 
handsome  matron,  of  perhaps  fifty  years,  of  the  class 


60  LILITH 

called  "motherly;"  with  such  an  exuberance  of  life, 
health,  vitality  and  happiness  as  rendered  her  kindly 
affectioned,  sympathetic  and  confiding  towards  every 
fellow-being. 

She  had  got  on  the  train  at  Baltimore  and  ha£  ever 
since  been  sitting  in  the  opposite  corner  to  Lilith; 
not  with  her  chair  wheeled  away  from  her  fellow- 
passengers,  but  fronting  them  all  as  fellow-beings  in 
whom  she  took  a  friendly  interest,  and  looking  with 
her  kindly,  smiling  face,  half  shaded  by  the  black 
plush  bonnet,  and  her  portly  form  wrapped  in  her  fur- 
lined  cloak,  the  very  picture  of  comfort,  contentment 
and  benevolence. 

She  did  not  find  much,  however,  in  the  seven  men 
who  shared  the  car  to  interest  her — every  one  of 
them  the  incarnation  of  "business"  or  "politics,"  as 
far  as  she  could  judge  from  physiognomies  half  hid- 
den by  the  large,  open  newspapers  they  were  read- 
ing. 

Next  she  turned  her  social  attention  on  the  only 
woman  beside  herself  in  the  car,  and  who  sat  in  the 
opposite  corner. 

What  she  saw  there  was  the  red  back  of  the  chair, 
and  a  pair  of  pretty,  sloping  shoulders,  in  a  gray 
coat  and  a  little,  graceful,  bowed  head  in  a  gray  hat 
and  vail,  and — the  reflection  from  the  mirror. 

It  was  this  last  that  attracted  and  fixed  the  atten- 
tion of  the  lady.     She  could  not  withdraw  her  eyes 
from  the  picture  reflected  there — a  pale,  lovely  child 
face,  with  soft  brown  eyes,  suffused  with  tears,  and 
budding  red  lips,  quivering  with  grief. 

The  lady  watched  this  picture  with  growing  inter 
est  and  sympathy.  Then  she  turned  her  head  around 
to  look  at  the  passengers  to  see  if  by  any  sign  she 
could  judge  whether  any  one  of  them  could  perhaps 
be  the  father,  or  grandfather,  or  uncle,  or  other  male 
protector  of  this  lonely  and  grieving  child. 


LILITH  61 

But  no;  she  felt  sure  that  they  were  all  strangers 
to  the  little  one.  Besides,  two  chairs  behind  hers 
were  vacant. 

Still  she  watched  the  weeping  girl,  but  hesitated 
to  address  her;  it  was  such  an  unusual,  such  an  un- 
warrantable thing  to  do,  and  the  little  lady  might 
not  like  to  have  a  stranger  intrude  on  her  distress 
when  to  hide  it  she  had  turned  her  back  on  the  world 
— of  the  Pullman  car — reasoned  the  good  woman,  as 
she  watched  the  woful  picture,  and  sighed,  and  sighed 
and  watched,  until  she  could  scarcely  sit  still  in  her 
seat. 

"Suppose  it  were  my  own  dear  Edith  or  Clara  left 
alone  in  the  world,  with  no  one  to  care  for  her,  travel- 
ing alone,  with  no  one  to  speak  to  her?  Oh,  dear!" 

She  looked  and  saw  pretty  shoulders  rising  and 
falling  with  half-suppressed  sobs,  and  she  could  stand 
it  no  longer. 

"I  must  go  to  her!  I  must,  indeed!  I  can't  be 
like  the  swimmer  who  would  not  rescue  the  drown- 
ing boy  because  he  had  never  been  introduced  to  his 
father.  I  must  go  to  that  child  even  if  she  should 
take  me  for  no  better  than  I  ought  to  be  and  repulse 
me!" 

So  saying  to  herself,  the  good  woman  arose  and  left 
her  chair  and  went  and  took  the  chair  next  behind 
Lilith. 

Laying  her  hand  gently  on  the  girl's  arm  and  speak- 
ing very  tenderly  and  deprecatingly,  she  said : 

"My  dear,  you  seem  to  be  traveling  alone,  and " 

Lilith  lifted  her  head  with  a  startled  look,  and 
raised  her  soft  brown  eyes  inquiringly  to  the  face  of 
the  speaker,  thereby  embarrassing  the  good  woman, 
who  began  all  over  again: 

"You  seem  to  be  traveling  all  alone,  my  poor  dar- 
ling, and — and — and — you  don't  seem  very  well.  Can 
I  do  anything  for  you,  my  dear?" 


62  LILITH 

"Nothing,  I  thank  you,  ma'am.  I  thank  you  very 
much.  You  are  very  kind  to  notice  me,"  said  poor, 
solitary  Lilith,  in  an  unmistakably  grateful  tone. 

"My  poor  darling,  I  should  have  been  a  brute — 
and  worse  than  a  brute,  for  brutes  do  have  feelings 
— I  should  have  been  a  stock  or  a  stone,  not  to  have 
noticed  you  and  not  to  have  felt  for  you,  and  me  the 
mother  of  children  of  my  own,  too,"  said  the  kind 
creature,  ungrammatically,  but  very  affectionately. 

"You  are  very  good,  ma'am,  and  I  thank  you  very 
much." 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  do  something  for  you." 

"There  is  nothing  to  do,  thank  you — nothing," 
sighed  Lilith. 

"Oh,  yes,  there  is,  plenty,  plenty!  Now  I  see  you 
so  pale  and  weak  that  you  are  scarcely  able  to  sit  up, 

and  if  you  are  going  to  New  York Are  you  going 

so  far?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Well,  New  York  is  a  long  way  off  yet,  and  you 
are  not  able  to  sit  up  all  the  way.  Now  in  the  next 
compartment — a  little  compartment  right  behind  us 
— there  is  a  sofa  and  two  chairs,  all  unoccupied.  Let 
me  take  you  in  there,  and  you  can  lie  on  the  sofa  and 
I  will  sit  in  one  of  the  chairs  and  keep  you  company. 
Will  you  come?  I  will  carry  your  bag." 

Lilith  hesitated. 

"Well,  I  declare,"  said  her  new  friend,  "you  look 
like  the  girl  in  the  song — 

•Half  willing!— half  afraid.' 

But  you  have  no  cause  to  be  afraid  of  me,  my  dear. 
I  only  wish  to  be  a  help  to  you.  I  would  not  hurt  a 
hair  of  your  head,"  said  the  good  woman,  earnestly. 

"Oh,  indeed  I  am  sure  you  would  not.  You  are 
very,  very  kind.  And  I  am  very  thankful  to  you.  I 


LILITH  63 

am  not  afraid  of  you,  but  of  the  conductor,"  said 
Lilitli. 

"Of  the  conductor!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  with  sur- 
prise and  then  with  a  laugh.  "Why,  on  the  face  of 
the  earth,  should  you  be  afraid  of  the  conductor,  my 
child?" 

"He  might  accuse  us  of  trespassing,  if  we  should 
go  into  that  vacant  apartment,  for  which  we  have  no 
tickets,  and  I  don't  know  what  the  law  for  trespass- 
ing may  be  on  the  cars,"  said  Lilith. 

"Well,"  laughed  the  lady,  "it  is  nothing  very  dread- 
ful— it  is  not  hanging,  nor  penal  servitude  for  life, 
nor  even  fine  or  imprisonment.  It  is  simply  to  be 
politely  requested  to  vacate  a  position  to  which  you 
have  no  right  in  favor  of  some  one  who  has  a  right 
— supposing  such  a  one  should  turn  up.  Otherwise 
you  may  keep  the  place  to  the  end  of  the  journey. 
But  if  it  would  make  you  feel  any  better,  I  will  speak 
to  the  conductor  next  time  he  passes  through  the  cars. 
J  have  traveled  this  road  so  many  times — how  many 
you  may  know  when  I  tell  you  that  for  the  last  seven 
years  I  have  had  one  daughter  married  in  Brooklyn, 
one  in  Jersey  City,  one  in  New  York  and  one  in  Bos- 
ton, and  I  spend  nearly  all  my  time  in  going  back- 
wards and  forwards  between  my  home  in  Baltimore 
and  their  homes.  Think  of  it,  my  dear!  There  are 
four  of  them,  and  every  one  of  them  has  a  baby  every 
year.  And  I  have  to  go  on  every  time  a  baby  is  ex- 
pected, and  then  have  to  be  there  a  month  before  the 
baby  comes,  and  stay  a  month  afterwards.  But,  as  I 
was  saying,  I  have  traveled  this  road  so  frequently 
that  I  know  all  the  conductors,  and  I  like  the  one  on 
this  train  better  than  any  of  them;  for  there  is  nothing 
in  the  line  of  his  duty  that  he  would  not  do  for  me, 
or  for  any  woman." 

"Are  you  going  on  now  to  meet  an  expected  little 
grandchild?"  inquired  ^oJith,  who,  child-like,  had 


64  LILITH 

ceased  to  weep  when  she  became  interested  in  some- 
thing else  besides  her  sorrows. 

"Oh,  no,  not  exactly  now;  though  there  will  be 
such  a  harvest  of  them  between  this  and  Christmas 
that  it  will  be  hardly  worth  while  for  me  to  go  back 
home  this  year.  Eh,  me!  Ponsonby  might  as  well  be 
a  full  widower,  for  he  has  been  a  grass-widower  most 
of  the  time  since  our  girls  have  been  married.  True, 
the  two  youngest  girls — Edith  and  Clara — are  at 
home,  and  they  keep  house  for  their  father  while  I 
am  away.  But  you  were  asking  me  about  the  cause 
of  my  journey.  It  isn't  a  baby  this  time;  it  is  a 
wedding.  My  Boston  son-in-law's  sister,  who  lives 
with  him,  is  going  to  be  married  on  Thursday,  and 
all  the  family  connections  are  to  meet  at  his  house. 
I  and  my  three  other  married  daughters  are  to  go  on 
to-morrow  morning.  I  shall  stay  at  my  son-in-law 
Saxony's  house  to-night.  Here  comes  the  conductor. 

Mr.  P ,"  she  said,  turning  to  that  officer,  "this 

young  lady  is  not  well.  Is  there  any  objection  to  my 
taking  her  into  that  vacant  compartment  where  she 
can  lie  on  the  sofa?" 

"No  objection  at  all,  Mrs.  Ponsonby;  the  compart- 
ment is  not  engaged,"  replied  the  polite  conductor. 

The  lady  arose  and  gave  her  arm  to  Lilith  and  took 
her  to  the  sofa,  where  the  exhausted  girl  was  glad 
to  lie  down.  Then  she  returned  for  her  own  and 
Lilith's  light  luggage,  which  she  transferred  to  the 
new  seats. 

As  the  conductor  passed  through  the  drawing-room 
car  on  his  return,  a  stout  passenger  with  iron-gray 
hair,  who  had  sat  three  seats  off  from  Lilith  and  her 
friend,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  car,  and  had 
watched  the  interview  between  the  woman  and  the 
girl,  and  had  heard  as  much  or  as  little  of  their  con- 
versation as  their  low  tones  would  permit,  and  had 
formed  his  own  opinions  on  the  subject — beckoned 


LILITH  65 

the  officer  to  approach,  and  looking  solemnly  over  the 
top  of  his  spectacles  said,  impressively: 

"Conductor,  I  want  you  to  keep  an  eye  on  that 
pair  who  have  just  gone  into  the  next  compartment. 
That  young  girl  is  traveling  alone.  That  stout  woman 
first  accosted  her.  She  has  some  evil  designs  on  that 
girl,  I  am  sure  of  it!  Robbery  or  worse!  She  has 
every  opportunity  to  chloroform  and  rob  the  girl,  or 
to  drug  her  and  take  her  away  for  something  worse!" 

"All  right,  sir!  I  know  the  old  party!  She  is  Mrs. 
Ponsonby,  of  Baltimore.  And  she  will  be  met  at  the 
depot  by  her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Saxony,  of  Number 
Street,"  replied  the  amused  officer. 

"Oh,  very  well,  if  that  is  so!  But  her  extraordinary 
proceedings  of  accosting  a  strange  young  lady  in  the 
cars  very  reasonably  aroused  my  suspicions.  I  am 
glad  it  is  no  worse,"  said  the  Detective  Crank,  in  a 
tone  of  disappointment  that  illy  accorded  with  his 
words. 

In  the  meantime,  Lilith  reposed  on  the  sofa  and 
her  new  friend  sat  by  her  side  and  chatted  to  cheer 
her  up. 

With  a  rare  delicacy  she  refrained  from  asking 
Lilith  any  questions  as  to  the  cause  of  that  distress 
which  had  drawn  the  good  woman  to  the  girl's  side, 
until  they  were  drawing  near  to  New  York.  Then  she 
inquired : 

"Is  there  any  one  to  meet  you  at  Jersey  City,  my 
dear?" 

"No,  no  one,"  answered  Lilith. 

"Nor  any  one  the  other  side?" 

"No,  no  one  is  to  meet  me  anywhere,"  said  the 
desolate  girl. 

"My  dear  child!  Some  one  ought  to  meet  you! 
It  is  not  right  or  safe  for  a  young  girl  traveling  alone 
to  enter  a  city  at  nightfall,  with  no  one  to  meet  her! 
But  I  suppose  you  know  exactly  the  number  and 


66  LILITH 

street  of  the  people  you  are  going  to  see/'  said  the 
good  and  sorely  troubled  woman. 

"I  am  going  to  no  house.  I  have  no  friends  or 
even  acquaintances  in  the  city,"  said  Lilith. 

"Then  why  on  the  face  of  the  earth  have  you  come 
here,  my  poor  child?"  inquired  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  in  sur- 
prise and  distress. 

Lilith,  like  the  baby  into  whose  state  she  some- 
times relapsed,  burst  into  tears,  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

"Now  what  have  I  done?  Now  what  is  the  matter? 
Oh!  what  is  the  matter?  Tell  me,  my  dear.  I  am 
very  sorry  for  you.  I  will  help  you  all  I  can.  Indeed 
I  will,  for  Edith  and  Clara's  sake,"  said  Mrs.  Pon- 
sonby, bending  over  and  caressing  the  girl,  who,  be- 
tween her  sobs  and  tears,  tried  to  answer. 

"I  came,"  she  gasped,  "because  I  have  lost 
everything  in  the  world.  I  have  suffered  cruel,  cruel 
reverses,  and  could  not  bear  to  stay  in  the  place  where 
I  had  seen  such  happy  and  prosperous  days  so  sud- 
denly turned  to  misery  and  destitution." 

"Poor,  poor,  poor  dear!  Was  it  through  the  war, 
my  dear?"  inquired  the  woman,  in  tender,  compas- 
sionate tones,  while  the  tears  stood  in  her  kindly  eyes. 

"No,  it  was  not  through  the  war.  It  was  since  the 
war." 

"Oh,  yes!  My  dear  child,  tell  me  all  you  wish,  but 
no  more  than  you  wish.  I  will  help  you  in  any  case. 
Indeed  I  will.  Are  you  an  orphan,  my  dear?" 

"Oh,  ma'am,  I  am  much  worse  than  orphaned,"  said 
Lilith. 

"Dear  me!  Poor  child!  How  worse  than  orphaned, 
my  dear?" 

"Oh,  ma'am,  I  cannot  tell  you  now.  Indeed  I  can- 
not. Do  not  blame  me,  and  do  not  be  angry.  It  is 
not  my  fault  that  I  am  so  desolate  and  that  I  must 
be  so  reserved  about  my  past  life,"  pleaded  Lilith, 


LILITH  67 

The  lady  fell  to  musing. 

"I  wonder  what  has  happened  to  the  child?  That 
she  is  good  I  can  see  for  myself.  Nobody  could  make 
a  mistake  about  her.  I  wonder  what  she  means  by 
worse  than  orphaned,  now.  I  wonder  if  her  father 
was  hanged  or  sent  to  prison  for  life,  or  anything 
like  that.  There  are  so  many  men  who  ought  to  be 
gentlemen,  but  wrho  come  to  that  sort  of  end  now, 
that  I  should  not  be  surprised  that  it  was  so.  Why, 
there  is  always  something  of  that  sort  going  on  in 
some  city  or  other,  some  bank  defaulter,  or  some 
forger,  or  manslaughterer,  or  something.  And  so  it 
seems  more  than  likely  that  her  father  may  have  dis- 
graced his  family  in  that  way,  and  be  in  prison,  or  in 
a  felon's  grave,  and  that's  what  she  means  by  being 

worse  than  orphaned.  But  her  mother Is  your 

mother  living,  my  poor  child?"  she  inquired,  suddenly 
breaking  the  long  silence  and  addressing  Lilith. 

''Xo,  ma'am.  My  mother  left  this  world  a  few  hours 
after  I  came  into  it,"  said  Lilith. 

"Poor,  dear  darling!"  said  the  good  woman,  who 
then  relapsed  into  silent  thought,  drawing  her  own 
conclusions. 

"Yes,  that  is  it!"  she  said  to  herself.  "The  mother 
gone,  the  father  worse  than  dead!  That  must  be  it, 
or  she  would  not  talk  of  being  worse  than  orphaned." 

Lilith,  perhaps  mistaking  her  continued  silence  for 
mistrust,  said  at  length: 

"You  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  a  perfect  stranger 
to  you,  ma'am,  and  I  thank  you  from  my  heart;  but 
do  not  trouble  your  kind  soul  about  me,  ma'am.  It 
is  not  worth  your  while,  indeed." 

"Oh,  it  is  easy  to  say  that,  my  dear;  but  I  can't 
help  troubling  myself  about  you!  Suppose  you  were 
my  own  Edith  or  Clara?  But  don't  be  afraid,  my  dear; 
I  won't  ask  anything  about  your  past;  what  I  want 
to  know  is  your  future.  You  said  when  you  started 


68  LILITH 

for  New  York  that  you  wished  to  get  away  from  pain- 
ful associations;  now  what  I  wish  to  ask  is,  where 
do  you  intend  to  go  in  New  York,  and  what  do  you 
intend  to  do?" 

"I  shall  go  first  to  some  hotel,  the  only  place  a 
stranger  can  go  to,  I  suppose,  and  then  I  mean  to 
look  out  for  some  employment." 

"Then,  my  dear,  you  are  all  wrong.  In  the  first 
place,  you  must  not  go  to  a  hotel,"  said  Mrs.  Ponsonby. 

"But  why?"  inquired  Lilith. 

"Because  you  would  go  as  a  lamb  among  wolves. 
That  is  why." 

"Then  I  suppose  I  must  try  to  find  a  private  board- 
ing-house." 

"Worse  and  worse!  A  respectable  boarding-house 
would  want  references,  and  if  you  happened  to  apply 
to  any  but  a  respectable  one " 

"That  is  the  reason  why  I  wished  to  go  to  one  of 
the  first-class  hotels.  They  are  always  very  respec- 
table. No  one  can  make  a  mistake  about  them,  and 
they  take  strangers  without  references." 

"Yes,  my  dear,  at  ruinous  prices.  Unless  you  have 
got  a  great  deal  of  money,  you  would  be  quite  pen- 
niless before  you  could  get  any  employment.  And, 
by  the  way,  what  sort  of  employment  do  you  expect 
to  find?" 

"I  hardly  know.  I  might  be  an  amanuensis  for  some 
lady  or  gentleman " 

"For  no  gentleman.  I  put  my  foot  right  down  on 
that.  Let  the  men  alone,  my  dear — unless  they  hap- 
pen to  be  your  very  nearest  male  relations.  And  to 
enter  a  lady's  employment  you  would  have  to  have 
good  references.  I  do  hope  you  have  references,  my 
dear?" 

"No,"  said  Lilith,  "I  have  none;  not  one;  and  cir- 
cumstances are  all  so  adverse  that  I  cannot  hope  to 
get  one." 


LILITH  69 

"Dear  me!"  said  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  taking  a  long  look 
into  Lilith's  face.  "But  you  are  all  right.  I  am  sure 
you  are  all  right.  You  are  not  the  sort  of  child  to 
run  away  from  your  father  or  mother  to  seek  your 
fortune.  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do;  I  will  be  your 
referee.  That  is — do  you  write  a  fair  hand,  spell 
words  correctly,  and  compose  sentences  grammat- 
ically, as  an  amanuensis  should  do?  For,  you  know, 
you  may  have  to  answer  letters  as  well  as  to  write 
from  dictation." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  can  indeed.  I  have'  been  accus- 
tomed to  do  all  that  for  my  dear  lost  foster-father. 
The  next  time  the  train  stops  I  will  write  a  specimen 
and  prove  it,"  said  Lilith. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  Benevolent  "Crank," 
"I  will  be  your  referee.  And  as  to  your  lodging  in 
New  York,  I  will  take  you  to  a  cheap  but  very  respec- 
table house  kept  by  the  widow  of  a  Methodist  minis- 
ter. She  has  no  fashionable  boarders,  my  dear,  for 

she  lives  on Street,  near Avenue,  and  fashion 

has  left  that  part  of  the  city  these  fifty  years  or  more. 
She  boards  some  of  the  public  school  teachers.  I 
will  take  you  to  her  house  to-night  before  I  go  to  my 
daughter's,  mind  you.  If  Saxony  comes  to  meet  me, 
and  is  in  a  hurry,  he  may  go  home  in  the  street  cars, 
and  I  will  take  the  carriage  and  carry  you  to  Mrs. 
Downie's,"  said  the  new  friend,  who  had  worked  her- 
self up  into  a  benevolent  fever  on  the  subject  of  the 
desolate  young  creature. 

"Oh,  how  good  you  are  to  me!  How  wonderfully 
good!  How  do  you  know  that  I  am  deserving  of 
your  goodness?  How  do  you  know  that  I  am  not  an 
impostor?"  said  Lilith,  catching  her  friend's  hand  and 
covering  it  with  grateful  kisses.  "Yes!  how  should 
you  know  but  that  I  am  a  very  foolish,  wicked  girl?" 

"Good  Lord,  child!  how  do  I  know  anything,  for 
that  matter — how  do  I  know  light  from  darkness,  ex- 


70  LILITH 

cept  through  my  eyes  and  my  understanding?  That 
is  the  way  I  know  you  from  an  impostor.  How  I 
thank  the  Lord  that  I  met  you  before  you  fell  into 
the  Lion's  Den  of  this  great  city!" 

"And  do  I  not  thank  the  Divine  Providence — oh, 
do  I  not?  And  thank  you,  oh,  so  much!"  exclaimed 
Lilith,  clasping  her  hands  in  the  fervency  of  her  utter- 
ance. 

"Now,  here  we  are  at  Jersey  City!  Gather  your 
traps,  my  dear,  and  be  ready  to  get  off.  Don't  be 
afraid.  The  dragon's  mouth  is  always  wide  open, 
but  you  shall  not  fall  into  it!"  said  Mrs.  Ponsonby, 
as  the  train  ran  into  the  depot. 

"And  there's  Saxony's  carriage,  but  I  don't  see 
him,"  she  said,  when  they  had  crossed  the  ferry  and 
passed  out  on  Desbrosses  Street. 

"Where's  your  master,  Patrick?"  she  demanded, 
when  she  had  dragged  Lilith  through  the  crowd  to 
the  door  of  the  carriage. 

"If  you  plaze,  ma'am,  Misther  Saxony  is  dining 
out  this  evening,  and  Misthress  Saxony  requisted  me 
to  mate  you  in  the  carriage  meself,  ma'am,"  said  the 
Irish  coachman,  who  resented  the  term  "master"  as 
applied  to  his  employer. 

"Very  well.  I  am  glad  of  it.  Get  in,  my  dear. 
And,  Patrick,  do  you  drive  first  to  Number  10  — 

Street,  near Avenue.    It  will  not  be  much  out  of 

your  way,"  said  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  as  she  put  Lilith  into 
the  carriage  and  followed  her. 

The  short  winter  twilight  was  fading  into  night, 
and  the  streets  were  beginning  to  be  lighted  with 


"Suppose,"  said  Lilith,  "suppose  that  your  friend 
should  not  have  a  vacant  room  for  me?" 

"Then  you  must  put  up  with  a  bed  for  this  one 
night." 

"But  if  she  has  not  an  unoccupied  bed?" 


LILITH  71 

"Then  she  must  find  one  for  this  night,  anyway," 
persisted  Mrs.  Ponsonby. 

It  seemed  a  long  ride  through  the  crowded  city 
streets  before  the  carriage  at  last  drew  up  before  the 
door  of  a  plain,  dull-looking,  three-story  brick  house. 

Mrs.  Ponsonby — without  waiting  for  the  coachman 
to  get  off  his  box,  for,  indeed,  Patrick  was  so  in- 
dolent that  he  always  made  an  excuse  that  he  "darn't'' 
leave  his  horses  to  open  the  door — alighted,  and  as- 
sisted Lilith  to  alight,  and  led  her  up  to  the  house 
and  rang  the  door-bell. 

A  female  servant  answered  it. 

"Is  Mrs.  Downie  at  home?"  inquired  the  elder  lady. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  the  waitress,  opening  a  door 
on  the  right,  and  showing  the  two  ladies  into  the  long 
but  plainly  furnished  parlor,  where  they  sat  down. 

"Will  you  tell  Mrs.  Downie  that  I  would  like  to  see 
her  on  business  for  a  moment?" 

"Yes,  ma'am.    What  name?" 

The  lady  handed  the  waitress  a  card. 

"Mrs.  Downie  is  at  tea  now,  but  I  dare  say  she 
will  not  be  long,"  said  the  girl,  as  she  left  the  parlor 
and  ran  down  the  basement  stairs. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  mistress  of  the  board- 
ing-house came  up,  with  a  warm,  exuberant  welcome 
for  an  old  friend.  She  was  a  short,  fat,  good-natured 
looking  woman,  of  about  Mrs.  Ponsonby's  own  age, 
and  she  was  dressed  in  a  clean  but  rather  dowdy 
black  gown,  all  in  keeping  with  her  general  aspect 
of  careless  good  humor;  and  her  pretty,  soft,  silvery 
gray  hair  was  gathered  into  a  knot  behind,  and  as 
much  disheveled  all  over  her  head  by  nature  as  it 
could  have  been  done  by  the  most  fashionable  hair- 
dresser. 

"Why,  goodness  me,  Em'ly  Ponsonby!  This  ain't 
you?  I  never  was  so  surprised  in  all  my  life  as  when 
Mary  gave  me  your  card!  And  we  have  just  this 


72  L1LITH 

minute  sat  down  to  tea;  and  you  will  come  down  and 
have  some?"  said  the  landlady,  in  the  softest  and  most 
caressing  voice,  that  seemed  to  be  perfectly  natural 
to  her. 

"No,  thank  you,  Sophie  Downie,"  replied  Mrs. 
Ponsonby,  as  she  arose  and  embraced  her  fat  little 
friend.  "I  am  in  the  greatest  hurry  that  ever  was, 
and  only  called  here  on  my  way  from  the  depot  to 
Sam  Saxony's  to  bring  you  a  new  boarder,  a  very 
dear  young  friend  of  mine,  who  came  with  me  from 
Baltimore  to  get  something  to  do  in  New  York  here. 

Miss Good  Lord  of  mercy!  I  don't  know  the 

child's  name!"  said  the  good  woman  to  herself,  as  she 
arose  and  went  to  Lilith,  and  whispered: 

"What  name,  dear — what  name?" 

"Wyvil,"  answered  Lilith,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"My  young  friend,  Miss  Wildell,  wants  a  quiet,  re- 
spectable home  just  such  as  you  could  furnish  her," 
resumed  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  rejoining  the  landlady. 

"Oh!  Another  Southern  orphan,  ruined  by  the 
war!"  said  kindly  Mrs.  Downie. 

"Ah!  poor  thing!"  replied  the  Baltimore  lady,  in 
a  non-committal  way.  "I  hope  you  can  take  her.  She 
has  some  little  money  left,  I  think." 

"And  she  wants  to  get  in  one  of  the  public  schools? 
Poor  girl!  there  ain't  the  least  chance." 

"No,  I  don't  think  she  wants  to  teach — but  the  ques- 
tion is,  can  you  accommodate  her?" 

"I  must  'commodate  her  somehow  or  other.  I 
haven't  got  a  room;  but  if  she  could  put  up  with  a 
cot  in  my  room " 

"Of  course  she  could,  until  you  can  do  better  for 
her.  And  now  I  must  go,  for  I  am  keeping  you  from 

your  tea,  while  they  are  waiting  for  me  on Street. 

Miss  Wilde,  my  dear,  I  leave  you  in  good  hands,  and 
if  you  ever  want  a  friend,  call  on  me.  Sophie  Downie, 
you  see  I  am  due  in  Boston,  at  my  daughter's,  to- 


LILITH  73 

morrow.  That's  why  I  am  in  such  a  hurry  now. 
Good-bye!" 

And  so  saying,  the  dear  woman  kissed  her  old 
friend,  and  then  kissed  Lilith  and  left  a  card  with 
her  address  in  the  girl's  hand. 

The  next  instant  she  was  gone,  and  Lilith  was  alone 
with  the  landlady. 

"Come,  my  dear,  come  upstairs  to  my  room  and 
take  off  your  things  and  wash  your  face  and  hands, 
if  you  wish;  and  then  we  will  go  dowrn  and  get  some 
supper.  My  dear,  I  hope  you  will  feel  at  home  here. 
Most  of  my  boarders  are  young  people.  Two  young 
ladies  who  are  public  school  teachers,  and  one  who 
is  a  colorer  of  photographs,  and  then  I  have  a  young 
Methodist  minister  who  has  a  parish  near  this.  He  is 
going  to  be  married  soon,  though,  as  ministers  must, 
you  know,  and  then  we  shall  lose  him.  And  then, 
my  dear,  if  you  are  still  with  us,  you  shall  have  his 
room  and  be  comfortable." 

So  talking,  the  landlady  led  Lilith  upstairs  and  so 
installed  her  in  the  home  that  was  to  be  hers  for 
many  months  to  come. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LILITH'S  STRUGGLES 

Perhaps  in  some  long  twilight  hour, 

Like  those  we  have  known  of  old, 
When  past  shadows  round  you  gather, 

And  your  present  friends  grow  cold, 
You  may  stretch  your  hands  out  towards  me. 

Ah!  you  will — I  know  not  when. 
I  shall  nurse  my  love,  and  keep  it 

Faithfully  for  you  till  then. 

A.  A.  Proctor. 

LILITH  found  her  new  home  a  safe  enough  retreat. 
Let  any  young  woman  go  into  a  strange  house,  in 


74,  LILITH 

a  strange  city,  under  the  circumstances  in  which 
Lilith  entered  the  Widow  Downie's,  and  if  she  feel 
compelled  to  observe  a  strict  silence  concerning  her 
own  past  life,  she  need  not  tell  her  story.  Her  neigh- 
bors will  make  up  one  to  fit  her,  and,  what  is  more, 
will  believe  in  it. 

Try  to  get  at  the  origin  of  such  a  story,  and  you 
may  trace  it  to  "They  say,"  but  no  farther. 

The  advent  of  Lilith  in  the  boarding-house  of  Mrs. 
Downie  caused  a  great  deal  of  gossip,  in  which, 
strange  to  say,  there  was  not  a  word  of  ill-nature, 
of  criticism,  or  of  adverse  reflection  upon  the  young 
creature. 

She  was  so  childlike,  so  pretty,  and  so  desolate, 
that  the  hearts  of  all  her  fellow-lodgers  were  drawn 
towards  her. 

By  "putting  this  and  that"  together,  by  uncon- 
sciously exaggerating  all  they  heard,  and  by  involun- 
tarily drawing  upon  their  imaginations,  they  had 
formed  a  theory,  which  they  took  for  fact,  in  regard 
to  Lilith. 

The  talk  ran  something  like  this: 

"Mrs.  Ponsonby,  a  very  dear  friend  of  Mrs.  Downie, 
brought  her  from  the  South,  to  try  to  get  something 
to  do  in  New  York." 

"They  say  her  father  was  a  rich  planter,  who  was 
totally  ruined  in  the  late  war." 

"Not  at  all.  He  was  a  wealthy  banker  of  Rich- 
mond, who  failed  in  '65." 

"A  great  mistake.  She  was  the  only  child  of  a 
Baltimore  broker,  who " 

"Oh,  no!  A  Washington  merchant,  who  became  a 
bankrupt  last  year,  and " 

And  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

At  last,  however,  the  chaotic  story  came  into  form 
and  shape  and  permanent  existence,  as  follows: 

Miss  Wilding — for  that  was  the  way  in  which  Mrs. 


LILITH  75 

Downie  had  heard  and  repeated  the  word  when 
Lilith,  remembering  that  her  husband  had  forbidden 
her  to  use  his  name,  had  replied  to  the  landlady's 
inquiries  by  giving  the  one  to  which  she  had  the  next 
best  right,  and  saying,  "My  name  is  Wyvil,"  where- 
upon the  landlady  thought  she  said,  "Wilding," 
and  thought,  from  her  childlike  appearance,  that  she 
was,  of  course,  a  single  woman,  and  reported  her  as 
Miss  Wilding — Miss  Wilding,  then,  according  to  the 
crystalized  gossip  of  the  house,  was  the  only  child 
of  a  wealthy  Virginia  planter,  who  had  been  ruined 
by  the  war,  and  had  died,  leaving  his  motherless 
daughter  entirely  destitute.  Mrs.  Ponsonby  had  be- 
come so  much  interested  in  the  young  orphan  that 
she  had  brought  her  to  New  York  to  get  something 
to  do,  and  had  very  wisely  brought  her  straight  to 
Mrs.  Downie's  boarding-house,  and  had  very  prop- 
erly become  surety  for  her  board,  for  Mrs.  Downie, 
with  all  her  goodness  of  heart,  was  too  poor  to  lose 
the  board  money,  which  Mrs.  Ponsonby  was  quite  rich 
enough  to  pay  without  feeling  it. 

Lilith  was  also  spared  troublesome  questions,  be- 
cause the  inmates  of  the  house,  though  poor  enough 
in  this  world's  goods,  were  too  refined  openly  to  in- 
trude upon  the  reserve  of  the  young  stranger;  and 
also  because,  when  once  the  good  landlady,  in  the 
motherly  kindness  of  her  heart,  had  questioned  Lilith 
concerning  her  troubles,  the  poor  girl  had  burst  into 
such  a  passion  of  tears  that  Mrs.  Downie  became  very 
much  distressed,  and  after  doing  all  she  could  to 
soothe  the  mourner's  sorrow,  she  not  only  resolved 
never  again  to  allude  to  the  subject,  but  she  warned 
all  her  young  inmates  to  observe  the  same  caution. 

"  'Cause  she  can't  bear  it,  my  dears.  She  can't,  in- 
deed. It  'most  kills  her  to  hear  it  mentioned.  And 
no  wonder.  Them  tender  Southern  girls  as  has  never 
been  used  to  anything  but  love  and  softness  and 


76  LILITH 

sweetness  all  their  lives,  to  be  suddenly  thrown  upon 
a  rough,  hard,  bitter  world,  you  know,  my  dears,  it 
is  very  trying.  We  must  never  speak  to  her  about  the 
past,  and  never  breathe  a  word  before  her  about  the 
war.  I  dare  say  her  poor  father  was  killed  in  battle, 
or  died  in  one  of  them  military  prisons,  or  something 
like  that,  which  it  breaks  her  heart  to  think  about. 
We  must  just  try  to  make  her  forget  it,  my  dears," 
concluded  Mrs.  Downie. 

And  her  sympathetic  hearers  promised  all  she  re- 
quired, and  from  that  time  emulated  each  other  in 
their  kindness  to  the  young  stranger. 

Mrs.  Downie's  household  were  in  some  respects  a 
peculiar  people,  of  whom  the  gentle  landlady  was 
the  controlling  spirit. 

One  word  about  Sophie  Downie.  She  had  been  a 
wife,  and  was  now  a  widow  only  in  name. 

Her  late  husband,  William  Downie,  had  been  a 
Methodist  minister  of  sincere  piety  and  much  elo- 
quence. 

They  had  been  neighbors'  children  in  a  country 
village,  and  had  been  engaged  to  each  other  almost 
from  their  childhood. 

He  was  "called"  to  the  service  of  the  Lord  from 
his  boyhood,  and  the  two  widows,  Sophie's  mother 
and  his  own  mother,  had  joined  their  slender  means 
to  send  him  to  college,  to  be  educated  for  the  ministry. 

"For,"  said  his  own  mother,  "he  is  all  that  I  have 
in  the  world,  and  why  shouldn't  I  spend  all  that  1 
can  on  him?" 

"And,"  said  Sophie's  mother,  "he  is  just  the  same 
as  my  own  son,  and  he'll  marry  Sophie  and  take  care 
of  me  when  I  get  old,  so  why  shouldn't  I  spend  all 
that  I  can  spare  in  helping  him?" 

So  the  boy  was  sent  to  college,  and  in  due  time 
went  honorably  through  his  course,  graduated  and  was 
ordained. 


LILITH  77 

He  was  to  marry  Sophie  as  soon  as  he  should  obtain 
his  first  parish. 

Within  a  few  months  after  his  ordination  he  was 
appointed  by  the  convention  to  the  Methodist  church 
in  New  York  City  near  which  his  widow  now  kept 
her  boarding-house. 

He  had  held  his  pulpit  but  a  few  weeks,  during 
which  Sophie  was  busily  engaged  in  preparing  for 
their  wedding  and  their  housekeeping,  when  he  was 
suddenly  stricken  down  with  a  disease  known  to  be 
fatal  from  its  onset. 

As  soon  as  he  knew  that  he  was  to  leave  this  world 
he  sent  for  his  promised  bride,  and  she  caine  to  him, 
accompanied  by  their  two  mothers. 

And  in  the  sick-chamber  the  long-engaged,  faith- 
ful lovers  were  united. 

He  lingered  a  few  days  after  his  marriage,  con- 
stantly attended  by  Sophie  and  the  two  mothers,  and 
then  passed  peacefully  away  to  the  better  world. 

The  three  grieving  women  took  his  remains  to  their 
native  village  and  laid  them  in  their  last  resting  place 
in  the  old  church-yard. 

Soon  afterwards  his  mother  departed  and  left  all 
the  little  remnant  of  her  savings  to  Sophie. 

"For  she  is  all  the  same  as  a  daughter  to  me,  and 
I  have  no  other  child,"  said  the  poor  widow  to  the 
lawyer  who  drew  up  the  will. 

We  live  in  a  changeful  country.  Few  of  us  have 
the  good  or  the  bad  fortune  to 

"Live  where  our  fathers  lived 
And  die  where  they  died." 

It  would  be  tedious  and  irrelevant  to  this  story  to 
tell  of  the  various  circumstances  that  finally  led 
Sophie  and  her  mother  to  sell  out  all  their  posses- 
sions in  the  little  country  village,  and  to  open  a  board- 
ing-house in  New  York,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 


78  LILITH 

that  church  which  had  been  the  scene    of   William 
Downie's  short  ministry. 

For  many  years  the  house  was  nominally  kept  by 
the  elder  lady;  but  it  was  entirely  managed  by  the 
younger. 

Many  opportunities  had  the  pretty  little  widow  of 
marrying  a  second  time;  but  she  remained  faithful 
to  the  memory  of  her  first  love. 

She  had  never  even  permitted  a  lover  to  become  a 
suitor;  for  as  soon  as  her  delicate  perceptions  dis- 
covered that  this  or  that  young  "brother"  in  the 
church,  or  boarder  in  the  house,  had  cast  an  eye  of 
"favor"  on  her,  the  very  shrinking  of  her  nature  threw 
such  a  sphere  of  coldness  around  her  that,  however 
gentle  and  courteous  her  manner  might  be  to  the 
aspirant,  he  dared  not  cross  the  invisible  boundary  of 
that  circle. 

One  of  her  most  ardent  admirers  said,  when 
"chaffed"  on  the  subject  of  his  infatuation: 

"She  is  as  sweet  and  gentle,  as  kind  and  courte- 
ous as  it  is  possible  for  woman  to  be;  but  it  would 
take  a  fellow  with  more  impudence  than  I  possess  to 
make  love  to  her,  or  to  ask  her  to  marry  him.  There 
is  a  sort  of  'Thus  far,  no  farther  shalt  thou  go'  about 
her  that  I  defy  any  man  to  transgress." 

He  was  right. 

And  so,  without  any  second  love,  without  coquetry, 
and  without  vanity,  the  pretty,  gentle  girl-widow 
grew  from  youth  to  middle  age.  Then  she  lost  her 
mother,  and  became  the  nominal,  as  she  had  long  been 
the  actual,  head  of  the  boarding-house. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  explain  or  even  to  under- 
stand how  Mrs.  Downie  had  managed  to  succeed  in 
eliminating  from  the  house  and  from  her  circle  of  ac- 
quaintances all  persons  who  were  uncongenial  to  her 
own  gentle  and  generous  spirit,  and  in  filling  them 
with  those  who  were  in  perfect  accord  with  her,  and 


LILITH  79 

with  each  other.  It  was  the  progressive  work  of 
years,  however. 

But  now,  at  the  time  that  Lilith  first  entered  her 
house,  it  was  filled  with  a  little  society  to  whom  she 
seemed  less  a  landlady  than  a  loving  mother,  and 
whom  she  absolutely  ruled — not  by  force  of  intellect, 
or  position,  or  power,  but  by  unselfish  goodness.  Al- 
ways, since  her  mother's  departure,  she  had  one  or 
more  of  adopted  children — little  waifs,  picked  up  in 
the  streets  of  New  York,  and  whom  she  lodged,  fed 
and  clothed,  and  sent  to  the  public  schools  until  they 
were  old  enough  to  be  put  out  to  learn  trades. 

When  any  hard-headed,  practical  brother  or  sister 
would  expostulate  with  her  on  the  extravagance  of 
her  benevolence  and  the  imprudence  of  her  neglect  to 
provide  comfortably  for  her  old  age,  she  would  an- 
swer, simply: 

"Why,  Lor's,  you  know  if  my  poor,  dear  husband 
had  lived  we  should  have  had  a  large  family  of  chil- 
dren by  this  time,  most  like.  But  as  I  haven't  got 
none  of  my  own,  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  take  care  of 
other  people's  orphans.  Seems  to  me  that  people 
without  children  should  take  care  of  children  with- 
out parents,  so  far  as  they  can.  And  as  for  the  rest 
of  it,  I  know  that  if  I  take  care  of  the  destitute  the 
Lord  will  take  care  of  me." 

Acting  on  this  simple  faith,  the  gentle  little  widow 
had  brought  up  and  provided  for  no  less  than  seven 
girls  and  five  boys. 

And  that  is  the  reason  why,  at  the  age  of  sixty, 
she  had  not  a  dollar  in  the  savings  bank. 

But  oh!  the  treasure  she  had  laid  up  in  heaven! 

At  the  present  time  she  had  a  boy  and  girl,  nearly 
grown  up,  and  when  these  should  be  well  provided 
for,  by  being  put  in  the  way  of  getting  their  own  liv- 
ing, she  meant  to  take  two  more  to  bring  up — if  she 
should  live  long  enough  to  do  so. 


SO  LILITH 


So  much  for  the  kindly  mistress  of  the  house. 

Her  circle  of  lodgers  consisted  of  seven  persons. 
First,  there  was  the  young  Methodist  minister,  John 
Moore,  who  occupied  the  same  pulpit  that  had  once 
been  filled  for  a  few  weeks  by  William  Downie.  And 
here  let  it  be  explained,  that  whenever  there  came 
to  that  church  a  young  unmarried  minister,  he  was 
always  recommended  to  Mrs.  Downie's  boarding- 
house  as  to  a  haven  where  he  would  be  perfectly  safe 
not  only  from  the  harpies  of  business,  but  from  the 
harpies  of  matrimony,  where  he  would  really  find 
"the  comforts  of  a  home,"  and  possibly  the  society 
of  some  fair,  good  girl,  suitable  to  be  the  companion 
of  his  life  and  labor. 

Next  there  was  Mrs.  Lane,  the  widow  of  an  officer 
in  the  Union  army,  who  had  fallen  in  the  battle  of 
the  Wilderness,  and  who  eked  out  her  small  pension 
by  decorating  china  for  a  large  wholesale  house,  and 
supported  a  son  at  Yale  College. 

Then  there  was  a  Mrs.  Farquier — the  widow  of  a 
colonel  in  the  Confederate  army.  She  was  an  artist, 
and  made  drawings  for  the  illustrated  papers  and 
magazines. 

These  two  women,  whose  husbands  had  fallen  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  same  war,  were  great  friends. 

Next  there  were  the  two  Misses  Ward,  orphan 
sisters,  and  teachers  in  the  public  schools. 

Lastly,  there  was  Lilith,  who  shared  the  landlady's 
room,  and  was  expected  to  share  it  until  the  young 
Methodist  minister  should  marry  and  take  possession 
of  the  parsonage  that  was  being  fitted  up  for  him. 

Lilitli,  who  had  been  madly  driven  from  her  home 
by  the  goad  of  her  husband's  stinging  words: 

"I  never  loved  you!  I  married  you  only  to  please 
my  dying  father.  In  a  very  few  hours  I  shall  leave 
this  house,  never  to  return  while  you  desecrate  it  with 
your  presence!" 


LILITH  81 

Lilith,  who  had  fled  away,  without  any  definite 
purpose  but  to  escape  from  the  humiliations  that  had 
been  heaped  upon  her,  and  to  support  her  life,  until 
she  should  die,  by  some  honest  toil — Lilith  had  now 
ample  leisure  to  come  to  her  senses  and  to  reflect 
upon  her  past  and  her  future. 

Ample  leisure  indeed!  Her  days  and  nights  were 
spent  in  solitude  and  meditation,  for  immediately 
after  breakfast,  every  morning,  her  fellow-lodgers, 
workers  all  of  them,  scattered  to  their  various  occu- 
pations— the  minister  to  study,  to  write,  or  to  make 
duty  calls;  the  two  widows  to  their  rooms  to  work 
at  their  arts;  the  two  young  teachers  to  their  school- 
rooms, and  the  good  landlady  to  market,  and  then 
to  her  household  duties. 

Lilith,  left  alone,  would  wander  through  the  parlor, 
up  the  stairs  and  into  the  room  she  shared  with  Mrs. 
Downie,  and  then  back  again,  in  an  aimless,  dreary 
manner.  She  could  settle  herself  to  nothing,  take  in- 
terest in  nothing — 

"Her  past  a  waste,  her  future  void." 

Her  life  seemed  to  have  come  to  a  standstill. 
There  seemed  nothing  to  hope  for  in  heaven  or  on 
earth. 

There  were  days  of  such  deep  despondency  that  life 
seemed  a  burden  too  heavy  to  be  borne,  and  she 
longed  for  death — days  when  the  unrest  of  her  soul 
craved  the  rest  of  oblivion  in  the  grave. 

There  were  moments,  too,  when  athwart  the  utter 
darkness  of  her  soul  flashed  the  lightning  of  con- 
sciousness that  she  might  change  all  this  and  bring 
renewed  life,  action  and  happiness  to  herself;  that 
she  might  write  to  her  husband,  or  return  to  her 
home  and  implore  him  to  believe  in  her  and  to  bear 
with  her  until  she  should  be  at  liberty  to  clear  up 


82  LILITH 

the  mystery  that  rested  as  a  cold,  dark  storm-cloud 
between  them. 

And  at  such  moments  she  might  have  acted  on  the 
impulse  and  hastened  back  to  Cloud  Cliffs,  but  for 
the  memory  of  his  fierce,  cruel,  stinging  words: 

"I  never  loved  you!  I  married  you  only  to  please 
my  dying  father.  In  a  very  few  hours  I  shall  leave 
this  house,  never  to  return  while  you  desecrate  it  with 
your  presence!" 

Every  time  these  words  recurred  to  her  mind  they 
overwhelmed  her  with  a  fresh  sense  of  unspeakable 
humiliation. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said  to  herself — "no!  my  heart  seems 
dying  in  my  bosom,  but  I  must  not  listen  to  its  moan! 
I  must  not  go  back  until  he  himself  shall  repent  and 
retract  and  entreat  me  to  return!  I  can  die,  but  I 
cannot  go  back.  I  cannot." 

And  indeed  existence  for  Lilith  was  now  a  mere 
death  in  life. 

All  her  efforts  to  obtain  employment  by  advertis- 
ing and  by  answering  advertisements  had  signally 
failed.  There  seemed  to  be  no  use  for  her  in  the  whole 
world.  No  one  on  earth  seemed  to  want  her  in  any 
capacity. 

Mrs.  Downie,  watching  her  with  motherly  tender- 
ness, ventured  one  day  to  say: 

"Honey,  you  must  be  awful  lonesome  here  days, 
when  everybody  has  gone  about  their  business  and 
left  you  by  yourself." 

"It  does  not  matter,  Mrs.  Downie.  Don't  trouble 
yourself  about  me,  dear  heart,"  said  Lilith. 

"But  I  must!  I  can't  help  it!  Emmy  Ponsonby 
has  never  been  to  see  you  since  that  night  she  fetched 
you  here,  nyther,  has  she?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Downie!" 

"Well,  I  reckon  she's  still  with  the  weddingers  in 
Boston,  or  else  there's  another  baby  coming  around 


LILITH  83 

somewheres.  'Mong  so  many  married  daughters 
there's  always  a  baby  coming  'round  in  Emmy's 
family,  sometimes  two  or  three  of  'em  in  a  year,  and 
I  reckon  that  is  what's  the  matter  now.  'Cause  Emmy 
Ponsonby  never  forgets  her  friends  or  her  promises." 

"She  was  very,  very  good  to  me,  and  I  had  no  claim 
on  her,"  sighed  Lilith. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  you  had  a  claim  on  her,  honey;  as 
you  have  on  me  and  on  every  grown-up  woman  as  is 
able  to  help  a  motherless  child  like  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Downie,  so  tenderly  that  Lilith's  eyes  filled  w7ith  tears. 

"Mrs.  Downie,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing." 

"Ask  away,  then,  honey." 

"You  have  taken  me  here  a  stranger  in  your  house. 
I  have  been  here  four  weeks  and  you  have  never  given 
me  your  bill -" 

"I  was  waiting  till  you  got  something  to  do,  honey," 
interrupted  the  landlady. 

"And — this  is  what  I  wanted  to  ask  you:  Sup- 
pose I  should  be  here  for  eight  weeks  or  for  twelve 
weeks,  without  paying  you?" 

"Well,  honey,  it  wouldn't  so  much  matter  as  you 
might  think;  because,  you  see,  dear,  you  don't  occupy 
a  room.  You  only  sleep  on  a  little  bed  in  my  room; 
so  really  your  being  here  don't  make  no  odds.  I  have 
six  rooms  as  I  let  to  boarders,  and  that  is  what  sup- 
ports the  hoi  56.  They  are  all  let,  and  you  don't  take 
up  none  of  them,  so  your  being  in  the  house  don't 
make  no  odds  at  all,  let  alone  it  being  a  comfort  to 
have  you." 

"Dear  Mrs.  Downie "  began  Lilith,  with  the 

tears  running  over  her  eyes;  but  her  voice  faltered 
and  her  words  died  in  silence. 

"Look  here,  honey,  it  is  borne  in  on  me  as  if  you 
would  just  stop  calling  me  Mrs.  Downie — not  but 
what  I  am  fond  of  the  name,  and  proud  of  it  for 


84  LILITH 

poor,  dear  Will's  sake — but  if  you  would  just  stop 
ceremonials  and  call  me  Aunt  Sophie,  like  the  rest  of 
the  children  do,  and  would  come  closer  up  to  me,  in 
your  heart,  like  you  would  feel  more  at  home  with 
me,  and  would  be  more  better  satisfied,  and  wouldn't 
have  no  doubts  nor  troubles  about  board  and  such. 
Couldn't  you  now,  honey?" 

Lilith  left  her  chair  and  came  and  sat  down  in  the 
good  woman's  lap,  dropped  her  head  upon  her  bosom, 
and  put  her  arms  around  her  neck. 

"That's  right,  dearie.  Now  remember,  I  am  your 
Aunt  Sophie,"  said  Mrs.  Downie,  folding  the  young 
creature  in  a  close  embrace. 

"I  never  knew  a  mother  or  a  sister  or  an  aunt.  It 
comforts  me  to  be  allowed  to  call  you  aunt." 

"That  is  right,  dear.  Now  I'm  going  to  propose 
another  thing;  that  is,  for  you  to  go  to  market  with 
me  every  morning,  when  you  feel  like  it.  It  will 
amuse  you,  and  take  your  thoughts  offen  troubles  it 
is  unprofitable  to  dwell  on.  And  then,  dearie,  some- 
times you  might  go  to  meeting  with  me  in  week  eve- 
nings. We  often  have  a  real  good,  warm  time  at  our 
meetings,"  said  the  good  woman,  with  a  cheerful  glow 
in  her  gentle  countenance. 

"I  thank  you,  dear,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  I  should 
like  to  go  anywhere  with  you,"  said  Lilith,  as  she 
kissed  her  friend,  and  arose  to  her  feet. 

No  more  was  said  about  the  board  bill,  the  sub- 
ject of  which  had  been  introduced  by  Lilith  herself. 

But  the  next  morning,  as  Mrs.  Downie  was  putting 
on  her  bonnet  to  go  to  market,  she  spied  an  envelope 
directed  as  follows: 

"To  AUNT  SOPHIE,  FROM  LILITH." 

She  took  it  from  the  toilet  cushion  upon  which  it 
was  pinned,  and  found  three  ten-dollar  greenbacks 
inclosed  in  a  short  letter,  which  she  read: 


LILITH  85 

"DEAR  AUNT  SOPHIE:  If  I  were  in  need,  there  is  no 
one  in  this  whole  world  to  whom  I  should  be  so  en- 
tirely willing  to  be  indebted  as  to  yourself.  And  if 
I  were  in  want,  it  would  be  to  you,  first  of  all,  to  whom 
I  should  come  for  help,  feeling  sure  of  obtaining  it. 
But,  dear  friend,  I  am  not  so  poor  in  funds  as  I  am 
supposed  to  be.  I  have  enough  to  keep  me  for  a  year 
at  least,  even  if  I  should  get  no  work  to  do.  So,  please 
take  the  inclosed  without  any  qualms  to  your  benevo- 
lent heart.  I  shall  still  be  infinitely  indebted  to  you 
for  love,  sympathy  and  protection.  LILITH." 

Mrs.  Downie  read  the  note,  looked  at  the  money, 
and  communed  with  herself: 

"Now  what  did  the  child  go  and  do  that  sort  of 
thing  in  that  way  for?  Trapping  me  into  taking  the 
money  in  that  manner.  She  knew  very  well  that  if 
she  had  handed  it  to  me  I  wouldn't  have  touched  it. 
She  a  galliant  soldier's  orphan,  too.  And  now  I  s'pose 
if  I  hand  it  to  her  she  won't  take  it  back,  no  way! 
Xow  I  wonder  if  she  has  got  a  plenty  of  money,  sure 
enough?  Sufficient  to  keep  her  for  a  whole  year,  as 
she  says?  If  she  has,  this  would  be  a  convenience, 
and  a  real  godsend,  just  at  this  time,  too,  when  I 
am  trying  to  make  up  the  rent.  Yet  I  don't  like  to 
take  it  offen  that  poor  child,  nyther,  and  she  only 
occupying  a  cot  in  my  bed-room.  Well,  I'll  go  and 
try  to  make  her  take  it  back,  and  if  she  won't,  why, 
she  won't,  and  I'll  put  it  to  the  rent  money,  and  get 
that  off  my  mind  to-day." 

So  saying,  the  landlady  went  in  search  of  Lilith, 
whom  she  found  in  the  parlor,  ready  and  waiting  to 
go  to  market  with  her  friend. 

"Well,  Aunt  Sophie,  we  have  a  fine  day  for  our 
walk,"  began  Lilith. 

"Yes,  honey;  but  before  we  go  you  must  take  this 
back  again,"  said  the  good  woman,  trying  to  force 


86  LILITH 

the  money  into  Lilith's  hand,  "  'cause  I  don't  want 
to  charge  you  any  board  until  I  can  give  you  a  room, 
my  dear;  and  that  won't  be  until  Brother  Moore  gets 
married  and  goes.  And  then  I  will  take  pay." 

Lilith  opened  her  hand  with  the  palm  down,  so 
that  it  could  hold  nothing,  saying,  at  the  same  time: 

"And  I  will  not  impose  myself  on  you,  dear  Aunt 
Sophie,  until  all  my  funds  are  spent,  and  then — I 
shall  continue  to  stay  with  you — perhaps — until  you 
turn  me  out." 

"That  would  be  forever,  then,  honey;  or,  leastways, 
it  would  be  as  long  as  I  should  live,  for  I  should  never 
do  that  cruel  thing  on  no  account,"  said  the  old  lady. 

And  so  the  strife  in  generosity  was  ended,  and  the 
two  friends  left  the  house  together. 

As  they  walked  down  the  avenue,  Mrs.  Downie  said : 

"I  think,  dear,  as  you  would  be  a  great  deal  hap- 
pier if  you  were  to  have  some  regular  employment. 
You  came  here  to  get  something  to  do,  didn't  you, 
now?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie,"  said  Lilith,  sadly. 

"Well,  have  you  tried?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie.  I  have  advertised  in  the  New 
York  papers,  and  I  have  answered  advertisements,  but 
have  not  yet  succeeded  in  getting  anything  to  do." 

"What  did  you  advertise  for?" 

"For  the  situation  of  private  governess  in  a  family, 
or  assistant  teacher  in  a  school,  or  translator,  or 
copyist,  or  as  companion  for  an  invalid  lady  or  an 
elderly  lady,  or  as  amanuensis  to  a  literary  lady.  For 
all  these  situations  I  have  advertised  at  various  times, 
and  have  received  not  one  reply." 

"Ah,  dearie  me!  Every  road  to  business  is  so  over- 
crowded! But  you  said  you  answered  some  of  the 
advertisements  of  such  places  as  you  would  like  to 
take." 


LILITH  87 

"Yes,  but  no  notice  was  taken  of  any  of  my 
letters." 

"Ah,  you  see,  child,  I  suppose  there  were  hundreds 
of  applications  for  every  place,  and  they  couldn't  an- 
swer all  the  applicants." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Lilith,  patiently. 

"And  it  costs  so  much  to  advertise,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Downie. 

"Yes,"  said  Lilith.  "And  so  I  have  given  up  adver- 
tising on  my  own  account,  and  I  only  answer  the 
advertisements  of  others.  That  does  not  cost  so  much; 
only  the  paper  and  postage  stamp." 

"Well,  dear,  I  hope  you  will  succeed  at  last,"  said 
the  old  lady. 

"Yes.  'It  is  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turning,'  as 
our  homely  proverb  has  it,"  said  Lilith. 

"Yes,  dear,  I  know  it.  'It  is  a  long  lane  that  has 
no  turning,'  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  when  the  lane 
does  turn  it  doesn't  always  turn  into 

'Fresh  fields  and  pastures  green,' 

but  into  some  dusty  highway  a  deal  harder  to  travel 
than  was  the  long  lane  itself!  But  there!  I  ought 
not  to  have  said  that.  I  don't  want  to  discourage 
you,  dearie,"  suddenly  said  Aunt  Sophie,  with  a  qualm 
of  compunction. 

"I  saw  an  advertisement  in  this  morning's  Pursui- 
vant that  pleased  me  and  that  I  have  answered.  I 
have  brought  my  answer  to  drop  it  into  the  post. 
But  I  scarcely  hope  that  anything  will  come  of  it." 

"What  was  it  for,  dearie?" 

"A  companion  for  a  widow  going  abroad.  The  ap- 
plicant must  be  a  young  lady,  healthy,  agreeable, 
well-educated,  competent  to  speak  French,  Italian 
and  Spanish.  Oh,  I  have  all  the  list  of  requirements 
at  my  fingers'  ends,  you  see." 


88  LILITH 

Aunt  Sophie  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk, 
to  the  great  annoyance  of  other  foot-passengers,  and 
stared  in  mild  wonder  at  her  companion. 

"Now,  where  in  all  this  wide  world  do  that  widow 
expect  to  find  a  young  lady,  accomplished  as  all  that 
comes  to,  who  is  in  need  to  go  out  and  get  her  living?" 
she  inquired. 

"Oh,  dear  Aunt  Sophie,  there  are  many,  many 
among  the  impoverished  children  of  the  South  who, 
in  the  days  of  their  prosperity,  had  received  such 
education." 

"And  do  you  think  you  would  suit,  my  dear?" 

"I  can  but  try.     I  must  try,  you  know." 

"Well,  I  hope  that  widow  will  be  willing  to  give  a 
high  salary  for  all  that  she  wants." 

"The  advertisement  says  that  a  liberal  salary  will 
be  given;  but  also  adds  that  the  highest  testimonials 
of  character  and  competency  will  be  required." 

"Well,  my  dear,  you  can  furnish  them,  anyhow." 

"I  don't  know.  I  have  my  college  testimonials,  or 
could  get  them;  but  for  the  rest " 

"Well,  you  have  Mrs.  Ponsonby." 

"But  she  knows  so  little  of  me,"  sighed  Lilith,  as 
she  reflected  how  that  good,  credulous  woman  had 
come  to  her  side  in  the  spirit  of  compassion  and  had 
taken  her  respectability  quite  for  granted. 

"Well,  honey,  don't  sigh,  that's  a  dearie;  because 
if  you  don't  get  the  place  it  makes  no  odds.  I  dare 
say  that  widow  is  some  poor,  infirm  old  lady  going 
to  travel  for  her  health,  who  would  be  no  end  of  a 
trial  to  you.  And  you  know  if  you  never  get  noth- 
ing to  do,  you  can  always  live  long  o'  me  and  be 
comfortable  always.  'Deed  I  feel  so  drawn  to  you, 
dearie,  that  I  would  like  to  adopt  you  if  you  would 
let  me.  It  would  make  no  odds,  leastways  not  much 
at  the  end  of  the  year.  And  I  meant  to  adopt  two 
more  as  soon  as  ever  John  and  Mary  are  provided 


LILITH  89 

for.  And  I  reckon  I  had  better  adopt  one  like  you 
than  another  child.  I  mightn't  live  to  see  the  child 
grow  up,  for  I  am  getting  old.  Will  you  think  of 
what  I  tell  you,  dearie?" 

"Think  of  it?  I  shall  never  forget  it  so  long  as  I 
live,  dear  Aunt  Sophie,"  warmly  responded  Lilith. 

"Here  is  the  post,"  said  Mrs.  Downie,  pausing  at 
the  pillar  box,  into  which  Lilith  dropped  her  letter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LILITH'S  FIRST   PLACE 

My  life  you  ask  for?    You  must  know 

My  little  life  can  ne'er  be  told; 
It  has  been  full  of  joy  and  woe, 

Though  I  am  but  a  few  years  old. 

A.  A.  Proctor. 

A  WEEK  went  by  without  bringing  any  answer  to 
Lilith's  application. 

She  scarcely  expected  to  receive  one,  indeed.  She 
was  becoming  inured  to  disappointment,  for,  in  fact, 
she  had  known  nothing  else  in  connection  with  her 
efforts  to  obtain  employment. 

She  was  beginning  to  despair  of  success  in  this  line 
of  enterprise,  and  even  to  contemplate  the  possibility 
of  remaining  with  Mrs.  Downie  for  an  indefinite  time, 
and  of  becoming  useful  to  her  in  some  good  way. 

Lilith  thanked  Heaven  that  the  rigor  of  her  deso- 
late doom  was  tempered  with  mercy  in  the  person 
of  Aunt  Sophie.  She  was  beginning  to  love  the  sweet 
old  lady,  with  that  satisfying  affection  which  is  born 
of  esteem  and  perfect  trust.  Lilith  knew  that  what- 
ever evil  fortune  should  be  in  store  for  her,  it  would 


90  LILITH 

not  be  the  loss  of  Aunt  Sophie's  motherly  care  and 
protection. 

She  knew  if  she  were  to  become  quite  penniless, 
and  should  be  stricken  with  a  long  and  tedious  ill- 
ness, that  Aunt  Sophie  would  never  permit  her  to  be 
sent  to  a  public  hospital,  but  would  nurse  her  ten- 
derly and  skilfully  at  home. 

And  this  was  the  dear  woman  at  whom  some  people 
— not  many,  to  the  credit  of  human  nature,  be  it  said 
— had  sneered,  as  too  plain,  homely  and  ignorant  in 
looks,  speech  and  manner,  ever  to  have  been  fit  for 
a  minister's  wife,  though  she  was  a  minister's  widow. 

These  people  little  know  that  all  the  spare  money 
of  the  two  widows — William  Downie's  mother  and 
Sophie  Wood's  mother — had  gone  by  mutual  agree- 
ment to  educate  Willy,  leaving  Sophie  to  get  what 
benefit  she  could  out  of  the  village  school,  which 
could  never  cure  her  of  the  quaint,  old-fashioned, 
ungrammatical  talk  she  had  learned  at  her  mother's 
knee  and  used  all  her  life. 

As  for  Lilith,  she  loved  this  homely  speech,  for  it 
reminded  her  of  her  own  country  neighborhood,  and 
she  loved  every  peculiarity  of  the  dear  unselfish  crea- 
ture— even  the  carelessness  of  her  dress,  whose  only 
redeeming  quality  was  its  perfect  cleanliness,  and 
the  disorder  of  her  fine,  thin  gray  hair,  which  was  as 
well  disheveled  as  if  it  had  been  attended  to  by  a 
fashionable  hairdresser — because  all  these  revealed  in 
the  active,  industrious  woman,  not  laziness  or  idle- 
ness, but  utter  self-forgetfulness  in  the  constant  ser- 
vice of  others. 

But  she  was  growing  old,  and  Lilith  wondered  if 
in  the  failure  of  all  her  efforts  to  obtain  employment, 
and  in  the  possible  necessity  of  her  having  to  remain 
with  Aunt  Sophie,  whether  she  might  not  help  her 
in  some  substantial  manner;  as  to  learn  to  keep  the 


LILITH  91 

house,  do  the  marketing,  cast  up  the  accounts  and 
pay  the  bills. 

It  was  Lilith's  inspiration  always  to  be  useful. 

It  was  late  on  Saturday  evening  that  Lilith  was 
sitting  alone  in  the  front  parlor,  all  her  fellow-lodgers 
being  absent  from  the  house  or  at  work  in  their  rooms, 
when  the  postman,  on  his  last  round  for  the  night — 
and  the  week — rang  the  door-bell. 

It  happened  that  Aunt  Sophie  answered  the  sum- 
mons. There  was  a  little  parley  at  the  door,  and 
finally  the  old  lady  came  in  with  a  letter  in  her  hand, 
which  she  held  out  to  Lilith,  saying: 

"Here,  my  dear,  see  if  this  is  for  you.  The  carrier 
is  waiting  to  know.  You  see  it  is  directed  to  the  house 
all  right,  and  the  number  and  street  all  right,  but 
the  name  is  all  wrong,  if  it  is  for  you;  though  it  is 
so  like  your  name  that  it  must  be  for  you." 

Lilith  took  the  letter  and  looked  at  the  superscrip- 
tion: 

"Elizabeth  Wyvil." 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie,  this  is  for  me,  and  I  think  it 
must  be  in  answer  to  my  application,"  she  said. 

"Very  well,  my  dear;  I  will  go  and  tell  the  man," 
replied  the  old  lady,  as  she  went  again  to  the  front 
door  to  explain  the  case  and  dismiss  the  postman. 

"Now  then,  dearie,  is  the  answer  favorable?"  she 
inquired,  as  she  returned  and  took  a  seat  beside  Lilith, 
who  sat  at  the  centre  table  reading  her  letter  by  the 
light  of  the  gasalier. 

"It  is  favorable;  if  it  were  not,  you  know,  I  should 
never  have  received  it.  Advertisers,  I  suppose,  do 
not  take  the  trouble  to  write  rejections,"  replied 
Lilith." 

"No,  I  reckon  not,  especially  as  in  every  case  I 
have  heard  there  are  hundreds  of  applications  for 
one  place.  Well,  dearie,  has  the  widow  lady  decided 
to  engage  you?" 


92  LILITH 

"No,  not  decided;  she  has  only  appointed  an  in- 
terview with  me  on  Monday  at  twelve  noon,  at  the 
Constellation  Hotel." 

"Oh!" 

"But  that,  you  know,  is  very  hopeful." 

"Yes,  I  reckon  it  is.  Well,  honey,  I  hope  you  will 
find  her  a  good,  kind  friend;  but  who  is  she,  my  dearie? 
Ah!  here  they  come!" 

Several  of  the  boarders  entered  the  parlor,  and 
cut  short  the  speech  of  Aunt  Sophie. 

Lilith  left  the  room  and  went  up  to  Mrs.  Downie's 
chamber  to  read  over  her  letter  again. 

It  was  very  short,  merely  acknowledging  the  receipt 
of  the  applicant's  letter,  and  asking  for  a  personal 
interview  at  the  time  and  place  already  specified. 

Of  course  Lilith  woulld  keep  the  appointment  and 
accept  the  position  if  it  should  be  offered  to  her. 

But,  she  asked  herself,  would  she  be  justified  in 
leaving  the  country,  without  first  informing  her  hus- 
band and  giving  him  the  opportunity  of  seeking  a 
reconciliation  with  her,  should  he  desire  to  do  so? 

"I  never  loved  you.  I  married  you  only  to  please 
my  dying  father.  In  a  very  few  hours  I  shall  leave 
this  house,  never  to  return  while  you  desecrate  it  with 
your  presence!" 

These  words  came  back  to  her  in  all  their  fierce, 
bitter,  scornful  cruelty.  "Came  back  to  her?"  They 
had  never  left  her.  They  smouldered  in  her  memory 
always,  and  only  blazed  up  in  a  fiery  heat  at  the  very 
thought  of  seeking  any  notice  from  the  husband  who 
had  contemptuously  cast  her  out;  but  whom — oh, 
woe — she  still  so  deeply,  so  painfully  loved. 

No!  he  had  turned  her  off,  and  she  must  not  call 
his  attention  to  herself  in  any  manner.  She  must 
let  him  go  his  way,  untroubled  by  her.  As  for  her- 
self, she  could  live— even  in  pain  and  sorrow — until 
she  should  be  called  away  to  the  land  of  peace. 


LILITH  93 

Lilith  had  ample  time  and  opportunity  for  reflec- 
tion between  that  Saturday  night  and  the  Monday 
noon  when  she  was  to  wait  on  her  possible  future 
employer.  So  it  was  after  mature  deliberation  that 
she  decided  to  enter  the  service  of  the  lady  adver- 
tiser, supposing  that  she  should  be  permitted  to  do 
so. 

On  Monday  morning  she  set  out  to  walk  to  the 
hotel.  She  arrived  a  few  minutes  before  the  appointed 
hour  and  sent  up  her  card  by  a  porter. 

While  she  waited  in  the  reception-room,  many  ques- 
tions arose  in  her  mind. 

Who  was  this  German  baroness  who  had  adver- 
tised for  a  lady  traveling  companion,  and  had  ap- 
pointed this  meeting  with  her,  and  with  a  view  to  en- 
gaging her  services? 

Was  she  old,  sickly,  melancholy,  ill-tempered  and 
exacting,  as  Aunt  Sophie,  in  her  tender  anxiety  for 
Lilith's  happiness,  had  feared  that  she  might  be? 

Or  was  she  young,  handsome  and  fashionable? 

Would  the  companion  be  required  to  nurse  an  aged 
invalid,  or  to  amuse  a  young  beauty? 

While  Lilith  was  anxiously  considering  these  ques- 
tions, the  door  opened  and  a  little  old  gentleman, 
dressed  in  clerical  black,  and  having  a  little,  round, 
gray  head  like  a  silver  ball  and  a  fresh,  rosy  face 
like  a  baby's,  came  bowing  into  the  room,  walked  up 
to  Lilith,  and  bowing  politely,  said: 

"Mademoiselle,  Madame  la  Baronne  desires  that 
you  will  ascend  to  her  apartments." 

Lilith  arose,  trembling,  bowed,  and  followed  her 
conductor  to  the  elevator,  which  in  a  few  seconds 
brought  them  to  the  second  floor. 

Here  the  old  gentleman  took  her  out,  along  a 
handsomely  furnished  hall  to  a  pair  of  folding  black 
walnut  doors,  beside  which  sat  a  servant  out  of  livery, 
who  arose  and  opened  them  for  the  visitor  to  enter. 


94  LILITH 

Lilith  found  herself  in  a  spacious  apartment,  whose 
first  impression  was  of  gloom  and  splendor.  Rich, 
heavy  curtains  vailed  three  lofty  front  windows;  but 
between  their  openings  long  needles  of  light  struck 
here  and  there  on  glowing  crimson  velvet,  or  gilded 
cornices  or  framework,  tall  mirrors,  elegant  vases, 
filled  with  rare  and  fragrant  exotics,  glimpses  of  rare 
pictures,  statues,  stands  of  every  graceful  form,  and 
seats  of  every  luxurious  make,  and  under  all  a  carpet 
that 

"Stole  all  noises  from  the  feet." 

Shadow  flecked  with  gleams  of  splendor;  silence 
softly  moved  by  the  sighing  of  an  invisible  Eolian 
harp;  cool  air  just  slightly  fragrant  with  the  delicate 
breath  of  fresh,  living  flowers. 

A  pleasing  awe,  as  of  entering  a  chapel  of  the  olden 
time,  of  incense  and  artistic  decoration,  crept  over 
Lilith. 

As  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  religious 
gloom,  she  saw  the  figure  of  a  lady  rise  slowly  from 
one  of  the  reclining-chairs  and  stand  waiting  to  re- 
ceive her — a  lady  of  majestic  beauty  and  grace,  whose 
perfect  form  was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  a 
closely  fitting,  rich  black  velvet  trained  dress,  with- 
out trimming  or  ornament  of  any  kind;  and  whose 
beautiful  head  was  crowned  with  an  aureole  of 
golden  hair,  which  her  widow's  cap  but  half  concealed. 

Lilith  approached  and  courtesied  involuntarily  as 
to  a  queen,  so  much  did  the  grand  beauty  of  this  lady 
impress  her  imagination. 

"Madame,  I  have  the  honor  to  bring  you  mad- 
emoiselle," said  the  old  gentleman,  bowing. 

Lilith  courtesied  again,  and  glanced  up  at  the  lady's 
face — a  beautiful  face — somehow  sugg  stive  of  the 
surroundings,  shadow  and  splendor — perfect  features, 
a  brilliant  blonde  complexion,  dark,  glorious  eyes,  and 


LILITH  95 

golden-hued  hair,  the  radiant  beauty  of  the  whole  en- 
hanced by  the  dead  black  of  the  mourning  robe. 

"Le  Grange,  you  may  retire,"  said  the  lady. 

And  the  old  gentleman,  with  another  bow,  with- 
drew. 

The  lady  resumed  her  seat,  and  by  a  courteous 
motion  of  her  hand  invited  Lilith  to  take  another  near 
her. 

"You  are  much  younger  than  I  expected  to  find 
you,  Miss  Wyvil,"  said  the  lady,  when  both  were 
seated. 

"I  am  not  Miss  Wyvil,  madame,"  said  Lilith,  who, 
since  her  marriage,  had  always  written  herself 
Elizabeth  Wyvil  Hereward,  but  who,  having  been  for- 
bidden by  her  husband  to  retain  his  name,  meant  to 
obey  him  by  dropping  it,  yet  who  wished  to  avoid 
deception  in  representing  herself  to  be  an  unmarried 
girl. 

The  lady  looked  somewhat  surprised,  gazed  wist- 
fully at  the  speaker  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  said: 

"You  are  very  young  to  be  a  widow." 

"I  am  nearly  eighteen,  madame,"  said  Lilith,  with- 
out deeming  it  necessary  to  enter  into  farther  explana- 
tions— for  was  she  not,  indeed,  "a  widow  in  fate,  if 
not  in  fact?" 

"And  you  look  even  younger  than  that.  When  did 

you  lose "  the  lady  began  to  question,  but  seeing 

Lilith  trembling  and  turning  pale,  she  desisted,  and 
after  a  little  pause  she  turned  the  conversation. 

"Mrs.  Wyvil,  I  have  had  about  two  hundred  an- 
swers to  my  advertisement  for  a  companion.  These 
have  taken  myself  and  my  private  secretary,  Mon- 
sieur Le  Grange,  about  a  week  to  get  through  with 
examining,  although  at  about  two-thirds  of  the  letters 
we  only  glanced  to  see  that  they  were  written  by 
utterly  incompetent  persons,  who  could  not,  indeed, 
write  a  fair,  legible  hand  or  compose  a  grammatical 


96  LILITH 

sentence.  Of  the  other  third  we  selected  about  a 
dozen  persons,  whom  we  saw,  in  turn,  by  appoint- 
ment during  the  week.  None  of  them — not  one  of 
them — suited  me.  Several  were  evidently  in  bad 
health,  fitter  for  an  infirmary  than  for  any  other 
place.  Several  others,  though  they  were  fair  English 
scholars,  had  little  or  no  knowledge  of  other  lan- 
guages; and  the  others  were  so  unlovely  in  looks  and 
manner  that  I  could  not  think  of  one  of  them  as  a 
companion.  Your  letter  was  one  of  the  last  I  re- 
ceived, and  you  are  the  very  last  with  whom  I  have 
appointed  an  interview.  Your  letter  made  a  favorable 
impression  on  me,  and  your  appearance  has  deepened 
it,"  concluded  madame,  who  had  evidently  given  these 
details  only  to  afford  Lilith  the  opportunity  of  recover- 
ing her  composure. 

Lilith  bowed  in  respectful  acknowledgment. 

"The  objection,  as  yet,  seems  to  be  your  youth," 
continued  the  lady. 

"As  another  in  my  case  said:  'It  is  a  fault  that 
must  mend  daily,'  madame,"  replied  Lilith. 

The  lady  smiled.  She  had  a  rare,  brilliant,  beau- 
tiful smile. 

"You  are  apt  at  repartee  and  quotation,"  she  said. 
"But  now,  about  your  knowledge  of  modern  lan- 
guages. I  can  see  that  you  have  all  the  other  re- 
quirements." 

"I  am  familiar  with  the  languages  mentioned  in 
your  advertisement,  madame,  and  I  have  testimonials 
from  professors  to  that  effect." 

"I  would  rather  judge  for  myself.  You  will  find 
writing  materials  on  that  table  near  your  left  hand. 
Translate  and  write  out  for  me  there,  in  the  lan- 
guages required,  this  text,  which  is  the  anchor  of  hope 
for  the  Christian: 

"  'For  God  so  loved  the  world  that  He  gave  Hi:-;  only 


LILITH  97 

"begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.' ' 

Lilith  went  and  sat  down  at  the  table,  took  a  sheet 
of  note  paper  and  wrote  slowly,  and  with  some  pauses 
for  recollection  and  selection,  until  she  had  completed 
her  task,  and  filled  a  page  of  note  paper,  which  she 
brought  and  gave  to  the  lady. 

She  smiled,  bowed,  and  read  as  follows: 

"Car  Dieu  a  tellement  aime  le  monde,  qu'il  a  donne 
son  Fils  unique,  afin  que  quiconque,  croit  en  lui  ne 
perisse  point,  mais,  qu'il  la  vie  eternelle. 

"Perciocche  Iddio  ha  tanta  amato  il  mando,  c'egli 
ha  dato  il  suo  unigenito  Figliuola  acciocche  chiunque 
crede  in  lui  non  perisca,  ma  abbia  eita  eterna. 

"Porque  de  tal  manera  amo  Deos  al  mundo  que  hayo 
dado,  a  su  Hijo  unigenito;  para  que  todo  aquel  que  en 
el  creyere,  no  ce  pierda,  mas  tenga  vida  eterna." 

"I  think  these  will  do,  Mrs.  Wyvil.  I  am  not  a 
very  accomplished  linguist,  but  I  will  submit  these 
specimens  to  Professor  Le  Grange  for  his  opinion," 
said  the  lady,  as  she  touched  a  golden  timbre  at  her 
side. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  man  whom  Lilith  had 
seen  in  the  hall  appeared. 

"Request  Monsieur  Le  Grange  to  come  here,"  said 
the  lady. 

The  man  disappeared,  and  was  succeeded  by  the 
little,  round-bodied  Frenchman. 

"Monsieur,  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  glance 
over  these  translations,  and  give  me  your  opinion  of 
them?"  inquired  the  lady,  handing  the  paper  to  the 
professor,  who  bowed — he  spent  half  his  time  in  the 
presence  of  his  employer  in  bowing — looked  over 


98  LILITH 

the  page,  then  read  it  carefully,  and  returned  it,  say- 
ing: 

"The  translations  are  correct,  madame." 

"Thank  you,  monsieur.     That  will  do." 

The  professor  bowed  and  retired. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Wyvil,  there  remains  but  to  ask  for 
your  references — a  mere  matter  of  form,  my  dear,  for 
believe  me  I  am  very  favorably  inclined  towards  you." 

Lilith's  face  flushed  as  she  answered: 

"I  have  such  testimonials  as  I  brought  from  col- 
lege at  the  end  of  my  last  and  graduating  term.  I 
have  no  other  referees,  except  a  lady  of  Baltimore, 
who  gave  me  permission  to  use  her  name.  She  is  a 
Mrs.  Ponsonby,  of  Calvert  Street,  in  that  city,  and 
she  is  frequently  in  New  York  here,  where  she  has  a 
married  daughter,  Mrs.  Saxony,  of Street." 

"Oh!  I  know  them  both — mother  and  daughter. 
I  have  met  them  in  Washington  and  at  Newport. 
They  will  do  quite  well,"  said  the  lady,  cordially. 

"But,  madame,"  said  Lilith,  as  the  painful  flush 
deepened  in  her  cheek,  "I  don't  know  Mrs.  Saxony 
at  all,  and  very  little  of  Mrs.  Ponsonby  except  that 
— that — that — she  took  me  up  on  faith — and " 

"That  does  not  matter.  I  can  trust  Mrs.  Ponsonby; 
and,  my  dear,  I  can  trust  your  candid,  truthful  face. 
Are  you  equally  satisfied  with  me?" 

"Oh,  madame!"  said  Lilith,  deprecatingly. 

"Then  we  have  only  to  speak  of  salary — twelve 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  paid  quarterly.  Are  the  terms 
satisfactory?" 

"Oh,  madame,  they  are  very  munificent.  The  salary 
is  very  much,  larger  than  I  expected." 

"It  is  not  too  large  for  one  of  your  accomplish- 
ments, who  is,  besides,  required  to  quit  her  country 
— to  expatriate  herself,  perhaps,  for  years." 

Lilith  made  no  reply.  She  was  beginning  to  tremble 
at  the  prospect  of  an  indefinite  exile. 


LILITH  99 

"I  expect  to  sail  on  the  first  of  June.  Can  you  be 
ready  by  that  time?" 

Lilith  paused  to  consider.  Should  she  take  this 
plunge? 

"I  never  loved  you.  ...  I  shall  leave  this 
house,  never  to  return  while  you  desecrate  it  with 
your  presence."  As  these  stinging  words  arose  in  her 
memory,  she  roused  herself  and  answered,  firmly: 

"Yes,  niadame,  I  shall  be  quite  ready." 

"Very  well,  my  dear.  Your  duties  will  be  very 
light — almost  merely  nominal.  I  wanted  a  young, 
pretty,  accomplished  and  agreeable  companion.  I  did 
not  expect  to  find  one.  But  I  have  found  one  in  you. 
I  will  not  detain  you  longer  at  present.  Come  in  at 
this  time  to-morrow,  if  you  please,  and  we  will  talk 
further,"  said  the  lady,  rising. 

"One  moment,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  madame,  I 
have  not  yet  the  honor  of  knowing  the  name  of  the 
lady  to  whom  my  services  are  pledged,"  said  Lilith. 

"Now  is  that  possible?  Well,  my  dear,  if  you  were 
better  acquainted  with  the  world  you  would  know 
one  thing  about  me — that  I  am  a  very  unbusiness- 
like individual,"  said  the  lady,  as  she  placed  a  card 
in  the  hands  of  her  companion. 

Lilith  bowed  and  read:    BARONESS  VON  BRUYIN. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LILITH  AND  THE   BARONESS 

Life  is  only  bright  when  it  proceedeth 
Towards  a  truer,  deeper  life  above; 

Human  love  is  sweetest  when  it  leadeth 
To  a  more  divine  and  perfect  love. 


100  LILITH 

Learn  the  mission  of  progression  duly; 

Do  not  call  each  glorious  change  decay; 
But  know  we  only  hold  our  treasures  truly 

When  it  seems  as  if  they  passed  away. 

Nor  dare  to  blame  God's  gifts  for  incompleteness; 

In  that  want  their  beauty  lies.    They  roll 
Towards  some  infinite  depth  of  love  and  sweetness, 

Bearing  onward  man's  reluctant  soul. 

A.  A.  Proctor. 

THE  Baroness  Von  Bruyin,  the  name  and  title  on 
the  card,  bore  no  especial  significance  for  Lilith. 

She  bowed  as  she  took  the  enameled  bit  of  paste- 
board and  withdrew  from  the  room. 

The  little  old  Frenchman  came  from  some  other 
room  opening  upon  the  same  corrdior,  and  politely 
escorted  her  downstairs  and  out  of  the  hotel. 

"Shall  I  have  the  honor  to  call  a  cab  for  you, 
madame?"  he  inquired,  when  the}7  had  reached  the 
vestibule. 

**No,  monsieur,  thank  you.  I  prefer  to  walk,"  re- 
plied Lilith. 

The  professor  stood  aside  to  let  Lilith  go  out. 

Lilith  "preferred  to  walk"  that  she  might  be  alone, 
and  have  a  longer  time  for  reflection  and  for  self-col- 
lection before  reaching  her  boarding-house,  and  hav- 
ing to  meet  the  kind  inquiries  of  Aunt  Sophie. 

The  die  was  cast,  then.  Her  fate  was  sealed.  She 
had  taken  the  step  from  which  she  felt  there  was  no 
honorable  retreat — unless,  indeed,  her  husband  should 
relent;  should  retract  all  his  bitter  charges  against 
her;  should  seek  her  out,  ask  her  to  return  to  the 
home  from  which  he  had  madly  driven  her,  and  set 
up  his  own  superior  claims  to  her  allegiance  in  oppo- 
sition to  those  of  madame,  the  baroness. 

But  this,  Lilith  knew,  was  a  possibility  far  too  re- 
mote to  be  thought  of. 


LILITH  101 

And  so  she  was — or  she  tried  to  persuade  herself 
that  she  was — glad  that  her  fate  was  decided  for  her 
by  circumstances  beyond  her  control. 

With  all  a  very  young  girl's  enthusiasm  for  an  im- 
perial beauty,  Lilith  admired  the  baroness,  and  felt 
that,  since  she  must  take  service  with  some  lady,  she 
could  be  better  satisfied  with  the  companionship  of 
the  beautiful  and  gracious  Madame  Von  Bruyin  than 
with  any  one  else. 

Lilith  walked  so  slowly  that  when  she  reached  her 
boarding-house  she  found  that  lunch  had  been  over 
for  some  time,  and  all  her  fellow-lodgers  had  dis- 
persed to  their  business  or  to  their  rooms. 

But  Aunt  Sophie  was  anxiously  waiting  for  her  in 
the  parlor. 

"Take  off  your  things  down  here,  dearie,  and  then 
come  with  me  to  the  dining-room,  and  you  shall  have 
a  cup  of  fresh  tea  before  you  tell  me  anything,  though 
I  am  half  dying  to  hear,"  was  the  greeting  of  the  old 
lady. 

Lilith  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  then  followed 
her  to  the  basement  dining-room,  where  a  fresh  white 
cloth  had  been  laid  over  one  end  of  the  long  table, 
and  adorned  with  a  fine  china  tea  service — that  had 
been  bought  many  years  before  for  Aunt  Sophie's 
bridal  housekeeping,  but  which  was  never,  never 
used,  except  on  the  most  sacred  occasions. 

The  kettle  was  boiling,  and  the  tea  was  soon  made 
and  brought  in,  with  the  accompaniments  of  light 
biscuits  and  lamb  chops. 

But  not  until  Lilith  had  drunk  her  first  cup  of  tea 
would  Aunt  Sophie,  who  sat  beside  her,  watching  her 
affectionately,  ask  one  question. 

Then  when  she  had  refilled  the  cup  for  her  young 
guest,  she  inquired: 

"And  have  you  got  the  situation,  honey?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie." 


102  LILITH 

"Oh,  dearie  me!  I  ought  to  be  glad,  but  I  ain't. 
I  had  a  heap  rather  kept  you  here  long  o'  me.  And 
are  you  really  going  abroad,  too?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie.    I  cannot  help  going.    I  must." 

"Oh,  dearie  me!  dearie  me!  I  hope  you  will  do  well, 
honey.  When  are  you  going?" 

"We  sail  in  the  Kron  Prinz  on  the  first  of  June." 

"So  soon!  All  me!  I  shall  never  live  to  see  you 
come  back,  dearie." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  will,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  Your  good 
and  useful  life  will  be  prolonged  for  many  years  yet." 

"Oh,  how  selfish  I  am!  I  ought  not  to  think  about 
myself,  but  about  you.  Dearie,  I  hope  the  lady  you 
are  going  with  will  not  be  too  hard  on  you.  You  are 
such  a  child!  Is  she  real  old  and  ugly?"  anxiously 
inquired  Aunt  Sophie. 

"Oh,  no!    She  is  young,  and  very,  very  handsome." 

"Oh,  then,  I  hope  she  is  not  haughty  and  tyrannical 
— so  many  of  those  rich,  proud  beauties  are.  But, 
oh,  dear,  how  wrong  of  me  to  talk  so,  to  discourage 
you.  Though  I  did  not  mean  to  do  that.  It  is  be- 
cause I  am  so  anxious  about  you,  honey.  Just  as 
anxious  as  if  you  were  my  own  dear  child." 

"I  know  it,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  But  do  not  be  un- 
easy on  my  account.  I  think  the  lady  with  whom  I 
have  engaged  will  be  very  kind  to  me.  I  do,  indeed. 
Certainly  during  our  interview  she  was  very  gracious 
and  considerate.  She  gives  me  a  very  large  salary, 
and  tells  me  that  my  duties  will  be  very  light — merely 
nominal.  That  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  for  her  but 
to  keep  her  company,"  said  Lilith,  cheerfully. 

"  'Nothing  to  do  but  to  keep  her  company.'  But 
that's  the  hardest  sort  of  work  with  some  people,  my 
dearie.  There  I  go  again,  discouraging  of  you,  when 
I  ought  to  be  doing  of  the  very  opposite  sort  of  thing. 
What  an  old  fool  I  am,  to  be  sure.  Don't  mind  me, 


LILITH  103 

honey,  but  tell  me  what  this  lady's  name  is.  Don't 
you  know,  dear,  I  have  never  heard  that  yet?" 

"I  never  heard  it  until  about  two  hours  ago.  I 
had  actually  engaged  myself  to  her  before  I  knew 
her  name/'  said  Lilith,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Lor5!  Now  that  shows  how  very  little  you  know 
of  the  world,  and  how  unfit  you  are  to  be  thrown, 
unprotected,  upon  it!  But  what  is  the  lady's  name, 
now  you  do  know  it?" 

"She  is  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin." 

"Von — Brewing?  Brewing?  'Pears  to  me  I've 
heerd  that  name  before — connected  with — connected 
with — some  grand  wedding  to-do  at  the  great  cathe- 
dral, where  the  archbishop  and  ever  so  many  bishops 
performed  the  ceremony.  Yes,  yes,  I  disremember 
her  name;  but  she  was  a  great  beauty  and  a  great 
heiress,  being  an  only  darter  of  some  rich  city  banker, 
rich  as  creases;  and  he  was  a  Mr.  Brewing,  another 
rich  banker,  a  heap  richer  than  creases;  but  older  than 
her  own  father — so  old,  so  old,  as  never  was  seen  be- 
fore at  a  wedding.  And  they  said  how,  when  he  went 
back  to  Germany  and  took  his  beautiful  wife,  he  paid 
the  emperor  lots  of  money  to  make  him  a  baron,  and 
it  was  all  to  please  his  wife,  so  she  might  be  a 
baroness.  Yes,  yes!  I  remember  now!  And  so  she's 
a  widow.  And  the  old  man  is  dead!  Well,  well,  well, 
how  things  do  turn  about!  Not  much  use  in  his  get- 
ting married  to  a  beautiful  young  woman  and  getting 
himself  made  a  baron,  when  he  was  just  ready  to  de- 
part away  from  this  life!  Ah  me!  'Vanity  of  vanities, 
all  is  vanity,'  saith  the  preacher,  and  it  is  true!" 

Lilith  made  no  reply,  and  presently  Aunt  Sophie 
resumed: 

"I  see  how  it  is!  She  don't  like  to  shut  herself  up 
away  from  society,  while  she  is  in  her  first  mourn- 
ing, as  she  would  have  to  do  if  she  stayed  in  this 
city,  where  she  was  a  sort  of  queen;  so  she  is  going 


104  LILITH 

to  travel  to  amuse  herself  until  the  time  of  fashion- 
able mourning  is  over,  and  she  wants  a  bright  young 
thing  like  you  to  keep  her  company!  But  in  a  year 
or  two  she  will  be  back  here,  and  then  we  shall  see! 
But  there  I  go  again,  sinning  as  fast  as  I  can!  I 
wonder  what  makes  me  so  uncharitable?  I  reckon 
it  is  because  I  haven't  been  to  class-meeting  lately. 
I'll  go  this  very  evening,  when  my  class  meets,  and 
I'll  get  the  brethren  to  pray  for  me.  It's  a  great 
help." 

And  seeing  that  Lilith  had  finished  her  lunch,  the 
old  lady  arose  from  the  table  and  began  carefully  to 
gather  her  precious  china  and  to  wash  it  up  to  put 
it  away. 

Lilith  went  up  to  her  own  room,  to  look  over  her 
slender  wardrobe,  and  to  think  over  what  she  would 
have  to  buy  for  her  sea  voyage  and  her  European 
tour. 

While  she  was  still  engaged  there,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, her  fellow-lodgers  were  discussing  the  details 
of  a  horrible  and  mysterious  murder  that  had  been 
perpetrated  in  the  city,  the  night  previous,  but  only 
discovered  that  morning.  It  was  in  all  the  evening 
papers,  forming  the  sensation  of  the  hour. 

In  the  same  paper  was  a  short  paragraph,  stating 
that: 

"The  body  of  an  unknown  woman,  suspected  to  be 
that  of  Mrs.  Tudor  Hereward,  wife  of  the  Congress- 
man from  that  district,  a  young  lady  who  had  dis- 
appeared from  her  home  some  weeks  before,  had  been 
found  in  the  woods  bordering  Cave  Creek,  near  Frost- 
hill,  in  West  Virginia.  A  wound  on  the  back  of  the 
head  indicated  that  she  had  been  the  victim  of 
tramps." 

That  was  all.     If  any  one  read  it  they  paid  but 


LILITH  105 

little  attention  to  it;  their  imaginations  being  en- 
grossed by  the  details  of  the  more  shocking  tragedy 
in  their  midst. 

At  dinner  in  the  evening  the  dreadful  occurrence 
was  discussed. 

After  dinner,  Lilith  took  up  the  paper  from  the 
parlor  table,  not  to  read  the  details  of  the  murder — 
her  whole  soul  shrank  in  loathing  from  such  a  sub- 
ject— but  to  look  at  the  Congressional  news,  as  she 
had  looked  at  it  daily  since  her  flight  from  her  home, 
to  see  if  any  mention  was  made  of  her  husband. 

But  there  was  none.  Not  once  since  she  parted 
with  him  on  that  bitter  night  at  the  Cliffs  had  she 
seen  his  name.  The  once  active,  industrious,  irrepres- 
sible Hereward  seemed  to  have  dropped  out  of  the 
Congressional  debates. 

This  continued  silence  sometimes  caused  Lilith 
serious  anxiety.  Was  Tudor  ill?  she  asked  herself, 
and  then  quickly  repressed  her  rising  anxiety  with 
the  recollection  of  that  bitter  taunt,  which,  like  a 
poisoned  arrow,  had  left  an  incurable,  festering- 
wound  which  daily  ate  deeper  and  deeper  into  her 
spirit. 

At  length  Lilith  put  away  the  paper,  without  hav- 
ing seen  the  paragraph  that  concerned  her  so  much 
that  it  might  have  changed  the  whole  current  of  her 
life. 

The  next  day,  at  the  appointed  hour,  she  went  again 
to  the  hotel  to  see  Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

As  we  said,  the  name  of  the  baroness  had  no  es- 
pecial significance  for  Lilith,  for  when  Tudor  Here- 
ward,  in  the  first  weeks  of  their  married  life,  had 
told  Lilith  the  history  of  his  first  love  adventure,  he 
had  in  delicate  consideration  abstained  from  men- 
tioning the  name  of  the  lady  or  of  the  gentleman 
who  afterwards  became  her  husband.  And  although 
the  gossips  she  had  heard  talking  of  the  matter  in 


106  LILITH 

the  parlor  of  the  hotel  had  just  once  let  fall  the 
of  Mr.  Bruyin,  it  had  made  no  impression  on  her 
memory,  and  there  was  nothing  to  connect  the  per- 
sonality of  the  baroness  with  that  of  the  beauty  who 
had  been  the  object  of  Tudor  Hereward's  first  passion. 

When  Lilith  reached  the  hotel  and  made  inquiries 
she  found  the  polite  old  Frenchman  wraiting  in  the 
parlor  to  conduct  her  to  the  apartment  of  the 
baroness. 

The  lady  received  Lilith  with  a  kiss,  saying,  as  she 
placed  her  in  a  comfortable  chair  and  resumed  her 
own  seat: 

"My  dear,  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  ever  since 
I  saw  you  last.  I  feel  that  I  shall  grow  very  fond 
of  you." 

"You  are  very  good,  madame,"  replied  the  girl. 

"Child,  I  hope  that  in  going  abroad  with  me  you 
are  not  leaving  any  one  whom  you  will  suffer  in  part- 
ing from?"  said  the  baroness,  in  the  gentlest  tone. 

"I  am  not  leaving  any  one  in  the  world  who  loves 
me,  except  my  landlady,  and  she  has  only  known  me 
for  a  little  while,"  said  Lilith,  with  a  slight  tone  of 
sorrow  in  her  voice  that  she  could  not  quite  repress. 

"'Only  known  you  for  a  little  while!'  And  I  f<pr 
a  less.  But  it  does  not  take  long  to  learn  to  love 
you,  my  dear.  Will  you  tell  me  something  about 
yourself?  I  am  very  much  interested  in  you.  In- 
deed, I  am  filled  with  wonder  and  speculation  con- 
cerning you.  When  I  advertised  for  a  companion, 
young,  agreeable  and  accomplished,  as  I  desired  her 
to  be,  Monsieur  le  Professeur  plainly  told  me  that  rara 
avis  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  ranks  of  women  who 
were  seeking  situations;  that  such  an  education  as  I 
required  in  my  companion  was  the  privilege  only  of 
wealth  and  genius.  And  the  answers  to  my  call 
proved  that  he  was  right.  In  about  two  hundred  ap- 
plications yours  was  the  only  one  that  suited  me. 


LILITH  107 

And  you,  my  dear,  have  really  excelled  my  most  un- 
reasonable expectations.  Your  extreme  youth,  which 
at  first  view  seemed  an  objection,  is  really  an  addi- 
tional charm.  Your  having  been  married,  too,  seems 
to  draw  us  nearer  together.  Two  young  and  recently 
bereaved  widows  may  surely  sympathize  with  each 
other.  I  hope,  dear,  that  you  will  consider  me  as  a 
friend." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  me,  madame.  I  have  no 
words  to  thank  you,  but  I  will  try  to  make  my  actions 
speak/'  said  Lilith. 

"And  some  time,  dear,  not  now,  but  some  time 
when  you  feel  that  you  can  do  so,  I  hope  that  you 
will  tell  me  something  about  yourself,  something 
about  the  circumstances  that  have  forced  you,  a  young, 
beautiful  and  accomplished  girl — you  are  little  more 
than  a  child,  although  you  have  been  married — to 
take  the  situation  of  lady's  companion,"  said  the 
baroness,  gently. 

Lilith  had  a  struggle  to  control  her  emotions;  but 
she  soon  conquered  them,  and  replied,  with  forced 
calmness: 

"You  are  entitled  to  my  fullest  confidence,  dear 
madame,  for  you  have  taken  me  almost  on  trust,  as 
everybody  has  so  kindly  done  since  I  left  home " 

"Who  could  do  otherwise,  my  dear?  Who  could 
look  in  that  pretty,  tender,  child-face  and  doubt  you? 
But  go  on,  my  dear,  with  what  you  were  about  to 
say." 

"Only  this,  madame,  that  some  time,  when  I  can, 
I  will  tell  you  my  little  story.  But  now  I  can  only 
say  this  much — I  am  from  West  Virginia.  A  reverse, 
a  calamity,  sudden  and  overwhelming  as  a  thunder- 
bolt or  an  earthquake,  laid  waste  my  life  and  de- 
stroyed all  my  happiness  in  an  instant,  'in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,'  and  cast  me  alone  upon  the  world. 
I  came  to  New  York  to  get  away  from  a  scene  so  full 


108  LILITH 

of  miserable  associations  as  my  home  had  become, 
and  seek  a  living  here  among  strangers,  all  of  whom 
have  so  charitably  taken  me  on  trust,  when  they 
might  have  put  out  the  last  spark  of  hope  and  life  by 
unjust  but  reasonable  suspicions,"  said  Lilith,  as  if 
she  deeply  felt  the  truth  of  every  word  she  uttered. 

"Who  could  suspect  a  baby?"  said  the  lady,  gently; 
but  nevertheless  she  inquired  within  herself: 

"What  can  have  happened  to  this  girl?  Has  her 
husband  killed  her  father  and  been  hanged  for  it? 
Or  vice  versa,  or  what?  There  are  so  many  homi- 
cides and  hangings  in  this  vast  country  that  no  one 
can  keep  trace  of  them  all.  Her  words  are  very 
enigmatical." 

Something  in  the  lady's  looks  might  have  betrayed 
the  drift  of  her  thoughts,  for  Lilith,  with  a  deepening 
color  and  in  a  low  voice,  ventured  to  say: 

"There  is  one  circumstance  that  I  ought  to  have 
added  to  my  statement,  rnadame,  and  it  is  this: 
There  has  been  no  dishonor  connected  with  my  mis- 
fortunes, no  dishonor  of  any  one's.  I  have  no  way 
of  proving  this,  but  oh!  as  I  hope  to  be  saved,  I  am 
speaking  the  sacred  truth!"  she  concluded,  clasping 
her  hands  in  the  earnestness  of  her  asseveration. 

"My  child,  I  feel  sure  that  you  do,"  answered  the 
baroness,  kindly;  and  then  she  changed  the  subject 
by  asking  Lilith  if  she  had  ever  been  abroad,  and  if 
she  was  a  good  sailor. 

"No,"  Lilith  answered.  "My  longest  sea  voyages 
have  been  from  Baltimore  to  New  York  and  from 
New  York  to  Newport.  But  I  am  a  very  good  sailor, 
for  I  have  been  in  more  than  one  storm  on  Chesa- 
peake Bay  and  have  never  been  seasick." 

"That  is  very  well.     I  hope  you  will  be  able  to 
bear  the  unrest  of  Old  Ocean  as  bravely,"  said  the 
baroness. 
And  then  she  told  Lilith  what  her  experience  had 


LILITH  109 

told  her,  the  outfit  necessary  for  the  comfort  of  the 
voyage,  and  the  outfit  that  would  be  nothing  but  an 
impediment. 

And  then,  when  an  hour  had  passed,  Lilith  arose 
to  take  leave. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  would  not  allow  her  to  go, 
but  insisted  that  she  should  stay  to  luncheon,  which 
was  served  in  madame's  private  apartments. 

It  was  a  tete-a-tete  feast,  and  Lilith  much  enjoyed 
the  delicate  fare  set  before  her — the  well-dressed 
game,  the  delicious  salad,  the  dainty  confectionery, 
the  luscious  fruits,  and  the  pure,  light  Chablis. 

When  the  repast  was  finished  and  the  service  was 
removed,  the  baroness  went  and  took  a  guitar  from 
its  place  on  a  stand  in  the  recess,  and  sat  down  to 
play.  She  touched  a  few  chords  and  then  floated 
into  a  mournful  solo  from  "II  Trovatore."  Her  voice 
wras  a  deep,  rich,  full  contralto,  but  so  profoundly 
sad  that  Lilith  felt  her  eyes  fill  with  tears  as  she  said 
to  herself: 

"Ah,  madame  has  also  suffered.    I  know  it." 
The  baroness  finished  her  song  and  laid  aside  her 
guitar  without  a  word. 
But  presently  she  said : 

"You  love  music,  my  dear?    Bah!    who  does  not?" 
"I  love  music.    That  was  a  beautiful  solo,  madame, 
only  so  sad!" 

"Ah,  my  dear!  But  never  mind.  You  have  prom- 
ised to  tell  me  your  story  some  day.  I  may  tell  you 
mine  before  that.  For  in  this  case  I  feel  towards  you 
somewhat  like  the  ancient  mariner  to  the  wedding 
guest." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  hear,  madame,  very  glad  and 
grateful  for  your  confidence,"  said  Lilith,  as  she  once 
more  arose  to  take  leave. 

"Why  is  it  that  I  feel  as  if  you  belonged  to  me, 


110  LILITH 

dear?"  said  the  baroness,  as  she  took  the  girl  in  her 
arms  and  kissed  her. 

"It  is  because  you  are  so  good  to  me,  madame. 
In  an  humble  way,  in  my  happy  days  at  home,  when- 
ever I  took  any  helpless  creature  under  my  care,  I 
always  felt  as  if  it  belonged  to  me,  whether  it  did  or 
not,"  said  Lilith,  simply. 

"Come  again  to-morrow,  my  dear,  if  you  can.     If 
not,  come  any  day  at  this  hour.    I  am  always  at  home  s 
between  twelve  and  two,"  said  the  baroness,  as  she 
patted  the  cheek  of  her  new  favorite  and  let  her  go. 

As  before,  the  old  Frenchman  joined  her  in  the 
corridor  and  escorted  her  downstairs  and  out  to  the 
sidewalk. 

There  she  thanked  and  took  leave  of  him. 

Lilith  walked  home,  where  she  arrived  an  hour 
later  than  on  the  preceding  day. 

"You  have  made  a  long  visit  this  morning,  honey," 
said  Aunt  Sophie,  who  met  her  in  the  parlor. 

"Yes,  the  baroness  detained  me,"  answered  Lilitte 

"I  am  getting  jealous  of  that  there  baroness.  I 
am  so,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  half  in  jest,  half  in  earnest. 
"But  take  off  your  things  right  here  and  come  down 
to  lunch.  I  have  got  such  a  beautiful  cup  of  broma 
for  you." 

"Thank  you,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  But  I  have  had 
lunch.  The  baroness  made  me  stay  for  it,  with  her," 
replied  Lilith. 

"Now  I  am  jealous  of  that  baroness — downright 
jealous,  that  I  am,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  with  such  an 
aggrieved  look  that  Lilith  embraced  her,  and  privately 
resolved  never  to  be  persuaded  to  stay  to  lunch  with 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  so  long  as  they  should  remain 
in  New  York. 

Lilith  did  not  go  to  the  baroness  the  next  day,  but 
she  went  down  on  Broadway  to  purchase  the  neces- 
saries for  her  sea  voyage. 


LILITH  111 

When  she  returned  to  her  boarding-house  a  great 
surprise  awaited  her. 

Aunt  Sophie  met  her  at  the  door  with  a  radiant, 
beaming  countenance,  and  asked,  with  a  very  mys- 
terious air: 

"Well,  honey!  Who  do  you  think  has  come?  And 
is  in  the  parlor  waiting  for  you?  You  can't  guess!" 

Lilith's  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  For  a  moment 
she  could  not  move,  and  her  swiftly  changing  color 
and  agitated  features  caused  Aunt  Sophie  to  laugh 
softly,  as  she  added: 

"Why,  it  is  Emily  Ponsonby,  of  course.  She  has 
just  arrived  from  Boston,  where  she  has  been  stay- 
ing with  her  daughter  ever  since  she  left  the  city  the 
morning  after  she  brought  you  here.  She  reached 
the  city  last  night,  and  is  stopping  with  her  other 
daughter,  Mrs.  Saxony.  And  this  morning  she  came 
right  down  here  to  inquire  after  you.  She  came  in 
just  about  ten  minutes  after  you  had  gone  out.  Now 
come  in  and  see  her." 

Aunt  Sophie's  long  explanation  had  given  Lilith 
time  to  recover  from  her  mingled  feelings  of  sur- 
prise, wild  hope  and  disappointment.  She  quietly  fol- 
lowed Aunt  Sophie  into  the  front  parlor,  where  the 
ample  form  and  rosy  face  of  the  good-hearted  Bal- 
timore lady  met  her  view. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  glad  to  see  you  again,  and  to  hear 
from  your  good  friend,  Sophie  Downie  here,  such 
splendid  accounts  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  rising 
and  embracing  Lilith. 

"Thank  you,  madam;  but  all  my  good  fortune  be- 
gan with  yourself.  If  you  had  not  spoken  to  me  on 
the  train  and  brought  me  to  this  house,  I  really  dt 
not  know  what  would  have  become  of  me." 

"Neither  do  I,"  replied  Mrs.  Ponsonby,  quite 
frankly.  "It  was  the  wildest  freak  I  ever  heard  of 
in  all  my  life — a  young  girl  coming  to  a  strange  city 


LILITH 

to  seek  her  fortune!  Ugh!  It  makes  my  very  flesh 
creep  to  think  of  it!" 

"It  was  a  forced  measure,  dear  friend.  I  had  no 
choice.  I  was  obliged  to  come,"  said  Lilith,  as  she 
took  a  seat  on  the  sofa  beside  the  matron. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  were  obliged  to  come,  and 
so  the  Providence  that  takes  care  of  the  young  ravens 
took  care  of  you.  But  I  tell  you  what,  my  girl,  if 
you  had  come  away  from  home  from  other  impulse 
than  stern  necessity  you  would  have  gone  to  the 
deuce  before  this.  It  was  an  awful  risk,  my  dear." 

"I  knew  it  was,  but  I  could  not  help  it,"  said  Lilith, 
meekly. 

"And  Sophie  has  been  telling  me  that  you  have 
just  got  a  splendid  situation  with  the  Baroness  Von 
Bruyin." 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"Why,  I  knew  her!  I  met  her  in  Washington 
when  she  was  a  Miss  Von  Kirschberg.  I  have  not 
seen  her  since  she  married  the  old  banker,  Mr. 
Bruyin,  who  got  himself  made  Baron  Von  Bruyin  to 
please  his  wife,  and  paid  a  good  round  sum  to  Em- 
peror William  for  the  honor,  you  may  take  my  word 
for  it.  Bosh!  I  like  nobility  when  it  is  real,  that  is, 
hereditary;  but  I  should  care  no  more  for  a  pur- 
chased title  than  I  should  for  a  paste  'diamond'  or 
an  imitation  'India'  shawl.  And  the  poor  old  man 
is  dead,  and  dead,  too,  without  an  heir  to  perpetuate 
his  dearly  bought  title." 

"What  sort  of  a  woman  is  the  baroness,  anyway, 
to  live  with,  do  you  think?"  inquired  Aunt  Sophie, 
in  anxiety  for  the  happiness  of  her  protegee. 

"I  think  she  is  just  about  as  good  a  woman  as  one 
could  expect  to  find  in  an  only  child,  a  beauty  and 
heiress,  who  had  been  petted  and  pampered  and  flat- 
tered and  fairly  idolized  by  everybody  around  her  all 


LILITH  113 

the  days  of  Iier  life,"  emphatically  answered  Mrs.  Pon- 
sonby. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  answered  Aunt  Sophie. 

"And  I  think  you  will  just  have  a  splendid  time 
with  her,  my  dear.  Why,  you  are  really  going  to 
travel  all  over  Europe.  My!  don't  I  wish  I  was  going 
to  Europe!  But,  there!  what  is  the  use  of  talking. 
When  Ponsonby  and  myself  were  young,  with  a  family 
of  little  ones  around  us,  we  promised  ourselves  just 
as  soon  as  we  had  raised  and  settled  them  all,  we 
would  travel  and  see  the  world;  but  Lor'!  before  the 
last  of  them  were  married  the  grandchildren  of  the 
first  wedded  began  to  come  on,  and  they  are  just  as 
strong  fetters  and  as  heavy  iron  balls  to  hinder  our 
travels  as  ever  their  mothers  were.  You  are  to  be 
envied,  my  dear,  I  can  tell  you  that!" 

"I  am  thankful,"  replied  Lflith.  "But  why  should 
you  have  waited  until  your  children  grew  up  before 
you  could  go  to  Europe?  Why  not  have  taken  them 
all  with  you?" 

"Never  saw  the  day  when  we  could  afford  that, 
my  dear.  But  I  will  live  in  hopes  to  see  the  old 
world  some  time  or  other  before  I  die.  Well,  dear, 
I  only  called  to  inquire  after  you,  and  to  see  whether 
Sophie  Downie  had  done  a  good  part  by  you " 

"She  is  the  best  friend  I  have  in  this  world!"  has- 
tily and  warmly  interrupted  Lilith — "except  your- 
self, Mrs.  Ponsonby,"  she  added,  on  reflection. 

"And  I  don't  doubt  that  Madame  Von  Bruyin  will 
be  a  much  more  valuable  friend  than  either  of  us," 
said  Mrs.  Ponsonby. 

"Xo!  no!"  exclaimed  Lilith. 

"Well,  at  least  I  hope  for  your  sake  she  may  be. 
You  cannot  have  too  many  or  too  good  friends.  Well, 
I  must  go,  or  I  shall  be  late  for  lunch.  I  shall  fetch 
Polly  Saxony  to  call  on  you;  and  then  we  must  have 
you  to  come  and  spend  a  day  with  us  before  you  sail," 


LILITH 

said  the  Baltimore  lady,  as  she  arose,  kissed  Lilith 
good-bye,  and  left  the  drawing-room,  followed  by 
Aunt  Sophie,  with  whom  she  chattered  all  the  way 
out,  and  lingered  to  chat  in  the  hall,  and  still  loitered 
to  chat  on  the  stoop  outside. 

At  length  she  was  gone,  and  Aunt  Sophie  returned 
to  the  pa'rlor. 

''Wasn't  that  a  surprise?"  inquired  Aunt  Sophie, 
gleefully,  as  she  re-entered  the  room. 

"Yes;  quite  a  surprise/'  assented  Lilith. 

"And  now  I  have  got  another  for  you:  John  Moore 
has  gone  off  to  be  married.  The  wedding  is  to  be 
to-morrow,  at  the  bride's  mother's  house,  in  Spring- 
field. And  he  is  to  bring  his  wife  home  on  Saturday, 
and  take  her  straight  to  the  parsonage,  which  is  all 
ready.  And  I  have  fixed  up  his  room  for  you.  You 
can  have  it  at  once.  Ah!  if  you  were  only  going  to 
stay  I  could  make  you  so  comfortable!"  said  Aunt 
Sophie,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"Dear  friend,  I  would  like  to  stay  with  you,  but 
you  know  that  I  cannot;  I  must  take  the  employment 
that  is  offered  me,"  gently  replied  Lilith. 

"Yes,  I  know.  Some  of  these  days  you  will  come 
back,  though,  and  I  hope  I  shall  live  to  see  you,  and 
if  so,  you  must  come  straight  home  to  me,  dear,  do 
you  hear?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie;  and  I  certainly  will  come  to 
you  first  of  all,  if  we  both  live,"  said  Lilith. 

And  then  the  entrance  of  other  persons  ended  their 
tete-a-tete. 

The  next  day  Lilith  went  to  see  the  baroness,  and 
was  received  with  even  more  kindness  than  on  the 
former  occasions.  But  she  declined  an  invitation  to 
stay  to  lunch. 

When  she  returned  home  Aunt  Sophie  met  her  with 
a  smile,  and  put  two  cards  in  her  hands,  saying: 

"They  called  while  you  were  out,  my  dear,  but  they 


LILITH  115 

didn't  stay  long.  And  they  left  an  invitation  for  you 
and  me  to  go  and  spend  the  day  with  them  to-morrow." 

Lilith  looked  at  the  cards,  which  bore  the  names 
of  MRS.  JOHN  PONSONBY  and  of  MRS.  THEOBALD  E.  B. 
SAXONY. 

"I  think  I'll  go  with  you,  my  dear;  I  have  not  had 
a  day  out  so  long.  I  know  Mary  Farquier  will  look 
after  the  house  for  me  one  day." 

And  so  Aunt  Sophie  and  her  protegee  accepted 
this  invitation;  and  the  next  morning,  at  a  most  un- 
fashionably  early  hour,  they  presented  themselves  at 
the  Saxony  mansion,  where  they  were  very  kindly  re- 
received  and  hospitably  entertained  by  the  mother  and 
daughter. 

They  met  none  of  Mrs.  Saxony's  fashionable  friends. 
It  was  not  that  lady's  receiving  day;  so  she  was  "not 
at  home"  to  all  casual  callers,  and  she  devoted  her- 
self to  her  mother's  simple  friends. 

Aunt  Sophie  and  Lilith  returned  in  the  evening, 
well  pleased  with  their  visit. 

The  next  day  the  old  lady  invited  Lilith  to  accom- 
pany her  to  the  parsonage,  where  she  and  all  her 
"family"  were  going,  with  many  of  the  church  people, 
to  receive  the  young  minister  and  his  bride. 

Lilith  went,  for  she  had  resolved  to  give  herself 
up  to  please  Aunt  Sophie  for  the  short  remainder  of 
her  stay  with  the  affectionate  woman. 

They  found  the  parsonage  a  very  attractive  home 
for  the  newly  married  pair.  The  house,  which  stood 
beside  the  church,  had  been  newly  papered  and 
painted,  and  refurnished  from  top  to  bottom,  and 
prettily  decorated  for  the  occasion.  The  church 
people  had  vied  with  each  other  in  the  choice  of  their 
wedding  presents,  which  were  tastefully  displayed  on 
the  drawing-room  tables. 

The  refreshments  were  laid  out  on  the  extension 
table  in  the  dining-room  at  the  rear. 


116  LILITH 

The  house  was  full,  but  not  crowded,  because  the 
people  dispersed  themselves  through  all  the  apart- 
ments. 

Aunt  Sophie  only  waited  long  enough  to  welcome 
the  young  minister  and  his  bride,  to  wish  them  all 
happiness,  and  to  show  them  into  their  chamber, 
where  they  might  change  their  traveling  suits  for  fes- 
tive dresses  before  going  down  into  the  drawing-room 
to  meet  their  friends,  and  then  she  took  leave. 

She  would  have  persuaded  Lilith  to  stay  with  the 
company,  but  the  latter  insisted  on  going  with  her 
friend. 

"You  know  I  ain't  young,  honey,  and  gay  and  fes- 
tive scenes  don't  suit  me,"  she  said,  apologetically. 

"And  as  for  me,  I  wish  to  go  with  you,  and  to  be 
with  you  as  much  as  I  can  while  I  remain  in  the 
country,"  Lilith  answered,  affectionately. 


CHAPTER  X 

IN    HER   TRUE   COLORS 

MADAME  VON  BRUYIN  grew  very  fond  of  Lilith  and 
would  have  had  her  new  favorite  with  her  every  day, 
or  even  had  her  to  come  and  live  at  the  hotel. 

But  Lilith  pleaded  that  she  wished  to  stay  with  her 
kind  landlady  as  much  as  possible  during  the  short 
interval  that  would  intervene  before  their  sailing 
for  Europe. 

The  baroness  admitted  the  excuse  and  did  not  in- 
sist on  Lilith's  entering  upon  her  duties  of  companion- 
ship before  the  stipulated  time — June  1st. 

But  whenever  Aunt  Sophie  was  out  on  business,  or 
very  much  occupied  with  her  household  duties,  Lilith 
would  slip  away  to  pay  a  flying  visit  to  the  baroness, 


LILITH  117 

to  whom  she  was  now,  at  all  hours,  a  most  welcome 
guest. 

One  evening  it  happened  that  Aunt  Sophie  had  gone 
to  a  protracted  meeting  at  her  church,  and  Lilith 
availed  herself  of  that  opportunity  to  go  and  see  the 
baroness. 

It  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  she  had  ever 
ventured  to  call  on  that  lady  in  the  evening. 

She  found  Madame  Von  Bruyiu  alone  in  her  apart- 
ments, more  lonely  and  depressed  than  usual,  and 
more  than  ever  pleased  to  see  her  unexpected  but 
most  welcome  visitor. 

She  received  Lilith  with  a  warm  embrace,  and  made 
her  lay  aside  her  bonnet  and  mantle,  and  sit  down  in 
the  most  comfortable  chair  in  that  luxurious  room. 

The  gas  had  been  turned  down  low,  so  that  the 
whole  room  was  in  a  subdued  cathedral  light  very 
favorable  for  meditation  or  for  confidential  conver- 
sation. 

How  it  was  that  Madame  Von  Bruyin  glided  into 
speaking  of  her  own  life  neither  she  nor  her  com- 
panion ever  knew. 

It  was  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  Lilith's,  how- 
ever, that  the  baroness  answered: 

"Yes,  I  know.  Of  course  there  are  many  people 
who  envy  me,  and  I  suppose  that  I  may  be  considered 
in  a  very  enviable  position;  but  that  is  only  the  ex- 
ternal view.  Within  myself  I  am  not  enviable.  There 
are  few  women  in  this  world  less  happy  than  I  am." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Lilith,  in  true  sympathy. 
But  she  was  much  too  modest  to  preach  to  this  great 
lady,  this  spoiled  beauty,  and  to  tell  her  of  the  vast 
power  her  wealth  furnished  of  doing  good  and  find- 
ing her  happiness  in  the  happiness  of  others. 

"Child!"  continued  the  baroness,  "the  truth  is 
that  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  with  my  life.  If  I 
were  not  in  deep  mourning  I  should  take  a  plunge  into 


118  LILITH 

society  and  in  its  maddest  excitements  forget  myself. 
But  as  I  cannot  do  that,  I  go  to  Europe,  to  make  a 
tour  of  the  continent.  But  I  ask  myself,  to  what  pur- 
pose? I  have  seen  it  all  before.  It  will  have  no 
novelty  for  me." 

"Not  the  beaten  track— the  great  cities,  the  great 
centres  of  art,  science  and  learning,  the  monuments 
of  antiquity— you  have  seen  all  those;  not  the  high- 
ways of  travel,  but  the  by-ways,  madame— the  remote 
villages,  the  country  people  of  each  country.  It  seems 
to  me  that  these  also  might  be  very  interesting,"  Lilith 
modestly  suggested. 

"Possibly,"  wearily  replied  the  lady;  "but  nothing 
interests  me,  child— except  yourself— nothing.  With 
every  appliance  of  material  good— with  youth  and 
health  and  wealth— I  have  no  interest  in  life,  no  en- 
joyment of  anything." 

"Oh,  madame!  what  has  brought  you  into  such  a 
state  as  this?"  exclaimed  Lilith,  speaking  from  the 
irrepressible  impulse  of  her  great  sympathy,  and  then 
stopping  short  and  blushing  at  the  thought  of  hav- 
ing asked  the  baroness  an  impertinent  question. 

But  Madame  Von  Bruyin  did  not  seem  to  perceive 
any  impropriety  in  Lilith's  words.  She  felt  only  their 
deep  sympathy. 

"I  must  tell  you  something  about  myself  and  my 
spoiled  life,  and  then  you  will  understand.  Come 

.nearer  to  me,  child." 
I 

Lilith  left  her  easy-chair,  drew  a  hassock  after  her, 
and  sat  down  on  it  at  the  feet  of  the  baroness. 

The  lady  bent  her  stately  head  until  the  golden 
tresses  touched  the  ebon  ringlets  of  the  girl.  And 
after  this  caress  she  laid  her  hand  on  Lilith's  head 
and  whispered: 

"I  have  been  so  wilful  all  my  life.  I  can  never 
remember  the  time  when  my  will  was  crossed — until 


LILITH  119 

about  six  months  ago.  How  full  the  last  six  months 
have  been  of  changes  for  me!" 

The  lady  paused  thoughtfully.  Lilith  might  have 
added:  "And  for  me!"  but  she  did  not.  The  baroness 
continued: 

"I  am  an  American,  my  dear,  as  you  might  know 
by  my  speech;  and  I  was  born  and  married  in  America, 
though  my  father  and  my  husband  were  both  sub- 
jects of  the  Emperor  William.  I  was  the  only  child 
of  my  widowed  father,  who  had  married  very  late 
in  life  and  who  lost  his  wife  in  the  same  hour  that 
gave  him  his  child.  He  never  married  a  second  time, 
but  devoted  himself  to  me.  In  time  I  became  the  idol 
of  my  father  and  of  his  dearest  friend  and  insepar- 
able companion,  Mr.  Nicholas  Bruyin — who  became 
Baron  Von  Bruyin  later,  you  understand." 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  Lilith. 

"I  was  never  sent  to  school,  but  had  teachers  at 
home,  who  taught  me  no  more  than  I  chose  to  learn; 
masters  and  governesses  who  never  mastered  or  gov- 
erned me,  but  who  had  to  submit  to  my  will  or  leave 
my  service.  And  in  all  my  self-will  I  was  upheld  by 
the  two  fondly  doting  old  gentlemen  who  held  my 
destiny  in  their  hands.  I  learned  music  and  danc- 
ing because  I  liked  to  do  so;  but  I  do  not  think  I 
should  have  learned  anything  else  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  advent  of  Monsieur  le  Professeur  Le  Grange, 
my  present  private  secretary,  whom  you  have  seen." 

"Yes,  madame." 

"He  was  engaged  to  teach  me  languages  when  I 
was  about  thirteen  years  old,  and  more  ignorant 
than  any  girl  of  my  own  age  and  rank.  Well,  Pro- 
fesseur Le  Grange  certainly  found  out  the  road  to 
my  conscience  and  affections,  convinced  me  of  my  piti- 
able ignorance  and  became  my  teacher  not  only  of 
languages,  but  of  science,  history  and  general  litera- 
ture. I  became  very  appreciative  of  his  character 


120  LILITH 

and  abilities,  and  tried  to  profit  by  them.  I  think  I 
have  shown  my  gratitude  for  his  services  by  attach- 
ing him  to  my  household.  He  will  never  leave." 

"He  seems  sincerely  devoted  to  you,  madame,"  said 
Lilith. 

"I  think  he  is.  There  are  spiritual  fathers  in  the 
church.  Professeur  Le  Grange  may  be  called  my 
intellectual  father.  When  I  was  but  fifteen  years  of 
age  I  went  to  Europe  with  these  three  old  men — my 
father,  my  friend  and  my  teacher,  and  with  no  female 
companion  except  my  old  nurse  and  my  maid.  You 
have  never  seen  those  two  faithful  women,  dear?" 

"No,  madame." 

"Yet  they  are  still  in  my  service.  We  made  an 
unusually  extensive  tour  of  Europe,  and  the  profes- 
sor, who,  in  addition  to  his  other  acquirements,  was 
a  learned  archaeologist  and  antiquarian,  was  my  most 
valuable  guide  and  mentor.  Perhaps  I  derived  more 
benefit  than  most  persons  from  my  travels.  If  so, 
I  owe  that  benefit  to  the  professor.  He  is  to  go  with 
us  when  we  sail,  as  I  suppose  you  know." 

"Yes,  madame." 

"We  returned  at  the  end  of  three  years,  and  I  was, 
soon  after  our  arrival,  introduced  into  society.  Two 
years  of  fashionable  seasons,  in  the  winter  spent  in 
New  York  or  Washington,  in  the  summer  at  New- 
port or  at  some  other  fashionable  resort.  I  was 
nineteen  years  old  when  my  father  was  attacked  by 
what  he  believed  to  be  a  temporary  though  very 
sharp  illness.  But  the  physician  who  was  called  in 
warned  him  of  its  real  significance.  Then  my  father 
grew  anxious  to  settle  up  all  his  worldly  affairs,  and 
very  anxious  to  see  me  married.  I  know  not  how  it 
happened,  or  who  first  suggested  the  plan — whether 
it  was  my  father  or  Mr.  Brtiyin — but  the  issue  was 
that  I  became  the  betrothed  bride  of  Nicholas  Bruyin 
before  I  knew  that  I  had  a  heart  in  my  bosom.  Mr. 


LILITH  121 

Bruyin,  though  older  than  my  father,  was  really  a 
healthier  and  a  stronger  man,  with  the  promise  of  a 
longer  life.  This  betrothal  took  place  just  before  I 
went  to  Washington  last  summer.  Ah!  if  it  had  been 
delayed  but  a  few  weeks  longer  what  a  difference  it 
would  have  made  in  my  life;  for  there,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  that  season  in  Washington,  I  was  destined  to 
meet  the  only  man  whom  I  could  ever  love;  a  man 
of  whom  you  have  probably  heard,  for  his  fame  has 
gone  abroad  all  over  the  country,  the  brilliant  orator 
and  rising  statesman,  Tudor  Hereward." 

Lilith  uttered  a  low  cry,  so  low  that  it  escaped  the 
notice  of  Madame  Von  Bruyin,  who  continued: 

"I  became  so  much  interested  in  this  gentleman 
that,  unconscious  of  the  danger  into  which  I  was  run- 
ning, I  allowed  myself  to  enjoy  the  heaven  of  his  so- 
ciety and  conversation,  for  it  was  heaven  to  me.  One 
night — it  was  at  the  masquerade  ball  given  by  Senator 

and  Mrs.  S ,  at  their  splendid  mansion,  on  New 

Year's  Eve — Mr.  Hereward  sought  me  out  and  pro- 
posed for  my  hand.  Oh!  not  until  that  hour  did  I 
realize  how  much  I  loved  him.  But  I  had  to  explain 
that  a  betrothal  scarcely  less  sacred  than  marriage 
bound  me  to  Mr.  Bruyin.  He,  my  lover,  Tudor  Here- 
ward, bitterly,  bitterly  reproached  me  for  misleading 
him,  and  triffling  with  his  affections.  And  we  parted 
in  wrath." 

The  baroness  bowed  her  face  on  Lilith's  curly  black 
head  and  wept.  The  girl,  unable  to  trust  her  voice 
to  speak,  took  one  of  the  lady's  hands  and  fondled 
and  kissed  it  in  sympathy.  The  baroness  recovered 
her  self  possession,  and  continued: 

"The  next  day  I  missed  Hereward  from  all  his  usual 
places.  And  before  the  night  came,  my  betrothed 
arrived  from  New  York.  He  was  shocked  to  see  how 
changed  I  was.  Child,  it  was  my  first  sorrow,  and 
I  had  no  power  to  conceal  it.  The  good  old  man, 


122  LILITH 

who  loved  me  with  a  totally  unselfish  love,  won  my 
secret  from  me,  at  once  released  me  from  my  engage- 
ment and  left  me  free  to  marry  the  lover  of  my 
choice.  Then  I  watched  for  Hereward's  return,  and 
when  he  arrived — child,  I  went  to  him,  I  humbled 
myself  before  him;  I  told  him  that  I  was  free,  and 
I  offered  him  my  hand.  He  replied  in  icy  tones  that 
he  was  married.  Yes,  married,  within  two  days  after 
having  been  rejected  by  me.  He  had  married  a  young 
girl,  a  child  who  knew  no  better  than  to  take  a  man 
at  a  moment's  notice.  The  news  was  a  thunderbolt 
to  me;  yet  even  through  that  nervous  shock  how  I 
pitied  that  young  wife." 

"Oh,  Heaven,  yes.  How  much  she  was  to  be  pitied!" 
cried  Lilith,  in  a  tone  of  sharp  pain. 

"As  for  my  miserable  self,  the  kind  guardian  of 
my  peace  and  welfare  saw  that  there  had  been  no 
happy  meeting  between  me  and  my  lover.  Again  he 
won  ray  secret  from  me.  This  time  it  was  the  secret 
of  my  disappointment  and  humiliation.  Then  tak- 
ing my  hand,  he  said  to  me: 

"  'My  dear,  the  world  knows  nothing  of  this.  The 
world  still  believes  us  to  be  a  betrothed  pair.  Let 
things  go  on  as  they  were  arranged.  You  know  me. 
We  will  be  married  at  the  time  appointed.  I  will 
then  take  you  abroad  to  the  court  of  Berlin.  Your 
dear  father  will  go  with  us  for  his  health.  You  are 
so  young  yet  that  you  will  outlive  and  forget  this 
trouble.'  " 

"Well,  I  consented.  I  was  so  confused  and  de-' 
pressed  between  grief  and  mortification,  that  I  was 
easily  led.  Only  a  few  days  later  we  were  married 
in  the  cathedral  in  this  city,  and  sailed  in  the  Kaiser 
Wilhelm  for  Germany.  We  had  planned  out  a  very 
fine  tour.  But  ah!  while  we  were  still  at  the  court 
of  Berlin,  and  only  a  few  days  after  Mr.  Bruyin  had 
received  his  patent  of  nobility  and  become  the  Baron 


LILITH  123 

Von  Bruyin,  he  had  a  stroke  of  apoplexy  that  ter- 
minated his  earthly  existence.  We  laid  him  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  city  that  he  loved  so  well,  and  then 
set  out  to  return  home.  My  father  never  reached  these 
shores  alive.  His  mortal  remains  repose  in  Wood- 
lawn.  There,  my  child,  I  have  unburdened  my  mind 
to  you." 


THK    FAIR    RIVALS 

How  am  I  changed?  My  hopes  were  once  like  fire; 

1  loved  and  I  believed  that  life  was  love. 
How  am  I  lost?   How  high  did  I  aspire! 

Above  heaven's  winds,  my  spirit  once  did  move 
All  nature  by  my  heart  and  mind,  to  make 

A  paradise  or  earth,  for  one  dear  sake. 
I  love — but  I   believe  in  love  no  more. 

I  still  aspire — but  hope  not.     And  from  sleep, 
All  vainly  must  my  weary  brain  implore 

Its  long  lost  flattery  now.    I  wake  to  weep, 
And  sit  through  the  long  day,  gnawing  the  core 

Of  my  bitter  heart,  and  like  a  miser  keep — 
Since  none  in  what  I  feel  take  thought  or  pleasure — 
To  my  own  soul  its  self-consuming  treasure. 

Shelley. 

AND  thus  Leda,  Baroness  Von  Bruyin,  had  told  her 
heart's  history  to  Tudor  Hereward's  young  wife. 

No  words  can  describe  its  effect  on  Lilith. 

She  sat  in  the  "gloaming,"  silent  and  motionless, 
her  still,  white  face  invisible  to  the  lady,  who,  after 
finishing  her  story,  fell  into  thought,  seeming  to  brood 
over  the  past. 


124  LILITH 

This,  then — mused  Lilith — this  peerless,  regal 
beauty  was  the  Miss  Von  Kirschberg,  the  woman 
whom  Tudor  Hereward  had  passionately  loved,  and 
by  whom  he  had  been  cast  off,  only  on  the  evening 
before  he  had  married  her — Lilith — to  please  his  dying 
father,  and  to  be  revenged  upon  his  false  love!  Oh! 
the  bitter  wrong!  the  bitter,  bitter  dishonor  of  the 
wrong! 

Lilith  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  white  face,  in 
an  anguish  too  deep  for  tears. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  saw  nothing  of  that  in  the 
gloaming.  Presently  she  spoke  again: 

"Strange — strange;  but  since  Herr  Von  Bruyin 
passed  away  I  seem  to  understand  his  character  better 
than  I  ever  did  before!  More  than  ever  before  I 
seem  to  feel  the  pure,  tender,  unselfish  love  he 
lavished  upon  me,  from  my  earliest  infancy,  even  until 
the  day  of  his  death — 'until  the  day  of  his  death?' 
What  am  I  saying?  Uttering  hastily,  and  with 
parrot-like  repetition,  false,  unmeaning  words — for 
there  is  no  death  and  no  limit  to  love  like  his.  From 
his  home  above,  he  loves  me  still.  And,  perhaps, 
when  I,  too,  shall  reach  that  bright  world  in  which 
there  is  no  winter  and  no  age,  I  shall  find  no  dis- 
parity between  us;  but  shall  see  and  love  him  even 
as  he  sees  and  loves  me!  And  that  shall  be  my  com- 
fort and  his  reward." 

The  baroness  spoke  tenderly,  meditatively,  with 
her  beautiful  head  bowed  upon  her  hand,  and  her  fair 
hair,  escaped  from  the  widow's  cap,  flowing  down  over 
her  black-robed  shoulders. 

Lilith  uttered  not  a  word,  but  she  thought: 

"This  is  the  woman  whom  Tudor  Hereward  de- 
nounced as  vain,  self-seeking,  doable-dealing;  false  to 
him,  false  to  herself,  false  to  her  betrothed,  and  all 
because,  to  keep  her  plighted  faith,  she  had  rejected 
him." 


LILITH  125 

And  Lilith,  through  all  her  own  deep  pain,  felt 
a  tender  sympathy  with  the  desolate  heart  of  her 
rival. 

At  length  the  baroness  spoke  again: 

"You  are  very  silent,  petite.  Of  what  are  you  think- 
ing?" she  softly  inquired. 

"Of  the  story  you  have  told  me,  madame,"  gently 
replied  Lilith. 

"And  what  about  it,  dear?" 

"It  is  very  sorrowful.  You  are  not  happy,  madame; 
and  perhaps  you  never  can  be,  unless,  unless — 
by » 

"By  what,  my  child?" 

"By  making  others  happy.  You  have  such  great 
power  of  doing  good,  dear  lady!"  earnestly  replied 
Lilith. 

"What  good  can  I  do?  I  seem  of  no  use  in  the 
world!"  sighed  the  baroness. 

"By  your  great  wealth,  madame,"  modestly  sug- 
gested Lilith. 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  subscribe  to  all  worthy  charities 
that  are  brought  to  my  notice.  Le  Grange  attends 
to  all  that!  That  is,  of  course,  my  bounden  duly, 
and  I  try  to  do  it,"  said  the  baroness. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are  very  liberal  and  very  con- 
scientious, but " 

"But  what,  my  dear?" 

"There  are  so  many,  many  cases  of  great  poverty, 
sickness  and  suffering  outside  of  these  organized 
charities!  Aged,  or  ill,  men  and  women,  and  little 
children,  suffering  in  extremity  for  want  of  the  barest 
necessaries  of  life,  helpless  and  dying  for  lack  of 
help,  even  in  the  midst  of  all  these  organized  charities! 
These  do  a  vast  deal  of  good,  but  they  cannot  do 
everything!  They  cannot  reach  all  the  suffering!" 

"How  do  you  know?"  inquired  the  lady. 

"I  know  from  what  I  see,  and  hear,  and  observe 


123  LILITH 

in  the  streets,  and  from  what  I  learn  when  I  go  into 
the  poorest  tenement  houses  with  Aunt  Sophie." 

"Aunt  Sophie?     Who  is  she,  child?" 

"Mrs.  Downie.  My  good  landlady.  She  is  a  Metho- 
dist minister's  widow.  She  keeps  a  plain  boarding- 
house,  mostly  for  young  ministers  and  teachers. 
She  is  very  poor,  but  very  charitable,  and  when  she 
sees  a  poor,  pale,  ragged  child  on  the  streets  trying 
to  make  a  few  pennies  by  selling  matches  or  pins, 
she  often  takes  such  a  child  to  its  own  home  to  see 
for  herself  into  its  circumstances  and  find  out  how 
she  can  permanently  benefit  it.  She  has  adopted  and 
brought  up  several  of  these  forlorn  children,  and 
settled  them  respectably  in  life.  She  has  always  one 
or  two  on  hand.  She  has  one  even  now.  Oh!  if  I  had 
only  plenty  of  money  I  would  found  a  home  for  des- 
titute children.  I  would  set  Aunt  Sophie  at  its  head 
with  the  carte  blanche  to  take  in  all  the  needy  chil- 
dren that  the  home  could  hold." 

"But  there  are  so  many  of  these  asylums,  my  dear." 

"I  know;  but  there  are  not  enough,  else  why  these 
poor,  little,  homeless  and  friendless  ones  in  the 
street?" 

"Well,  petite,  I  do  not  feel  just  yet  quite  inspired 
to  found  such  an  institution,  but,  before  we  sail,  I 
will  place  in  your  good  Aunt  Sophie's  hands  a  sum 
of  money  to  aid  her  charitable  work  among  the  friend- 
less children  of  the  street,"  said  the  baroness. 

"Will  you?  Oh,  will  you,  indeed?  If  you  do,  you 
will  make  a  good  heart  so  glad!"  exclaimed  Lilith, 
with  a  benminnr  face. 

"I  will,  indeed!  I  will  send  L«  Grange  to  the  honse 
with  the  chock  to-morrow,"  s^id  th°  lady. 

"Oh!  give  it  with  your  own  hand,  dear  madamo, 
and  you  will  see  what  joy  you  will  bring  into  the  dear 
woman's  face." 


LILITH  127 

"I  hear  what  joy  I  bring  into  your  voice,  little  one, 
and  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  baroness. 

In  her  deep  interest  in  the  subject  under  discus- 
sion, Lilith  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  her  own 
griefs. 

Even  Madame  Von  Bruyin  seemed  in  better  spirits 
as  she  said,  cheerfully: 

"We  must  have  lights  now,  dear." 

She  touched  the  silver  timbre  on  the  stand  beside 
her. 

An  attendant  came  in  and  lighted  the  gas  and  re- 
tired. 

Lilith  arose  from  her  low  position  on  the  hassock 
at  the  lady's  feet. 

The  baroness  also  stood  up,  and  drawing  her  com- 
panion's arm  within  her  own,  walked  up  and  down  the 
splendid,  illuminated  room  in  silence. 

It  happened  that  at  each  end  of  this  room  there 
was  a  broad  and  tall  mirror  that  reached  from  floor 
to  ceiling  and  reflected  the  two  figures  from  head  to 
foot — the  grand  beauty  of  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin 
and  the  petite  grace  of  Lilith. 

The  young  wife  marked  the  contrast  with  a  sink- 
ing and  despairing  heart.  In  her  admiration  she 
greatly  exaggerated  the  power  of  her  rival's  queenly 
charms,  and  in  her  humility  as  much  underrated  the 
effects  of  her  own  sweet  loveliness. 

"Ah!"  she  sighed,  from  the  depths  of  her  despond- 
ing spirit.  "No  wonder  he  worships  this  lady,  for 
she  is  the  crowned  queen  of  beauty!  No  wonder  he 
could  not  love  me,  for  who  am  I  beside  her?  No 
more  than  a  little  yellow  duckling  beside  a  royal 
white  swan!  No!  I  cannot  blame  him  for  adoring 
her  and  not  liking  me.  But  oh!  he  might  have  let  me 
alone.  He  ought  not  to  have  married  me  so  lightly 
and  cast  me  off  so  easily  because  J  was  a  duckling 
and  not  a  swan.  Now  I  remember  that  he  never  said 


128  LILITH 

he  loved  me.  He  never  professed  what  he  never  felt 
for  me.  -And  I  was  so  blind  I  never  missed  that. 
Because  he  asked  me  to  be  his  wife,  I  truly  thought 
he  loved  me,  and  I  did  so  joyfully  consent — letting 
him  see  how  happy  and  how  glad  I  was  of  the  Monor 
he  had  done  me,  the  delight  he  had  given  me.  Oh, 
the  sin  of  it!  Oh,  the  shame  of  it!  Oh,  my  angel 
mother  in  heaven,  if  you  had  been  on  earth  you 
would  never  have  let  your  child  fall  into  such  a  trap. 
You  would  have  taught  her;  you  would  have  warned 
her.  Oh,  he  ought  to  have  been  generous;  he  ought 
to  have  remembered  that  I  had  no  mother;  he  ought 
to  have  let  me  alone!" 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  dear  child?"  in- 
quired the  baroness,  breaking  in  upon  Lilith's  grievous 
reverie.  "You  are  so  absorbed  and  distressed  that 
you  must  be  in  some  great  trouble,  either  for  your- 
self or  for  some  one  else.  Can  I  do  anything  for 
you?" 

"No,  dear  madame;  nothing.  My  passing  mood  was 
not  worth  your  attention.  A  vain  regret  given  to 
lost  treasures,  or  perhaps  only  to  imaginary  treasures 
that  I  never  really  possessed.  I  will  try  to  overcome 
my  tendency  to  fall  into  these  moods,"  answered 
Lilith,  with  an  effort  to  collect  herself. 

"Some  day,  my  dear,  you  will  tell  me  of  your  past 
life — a  short  story,  it  must  be — as  frankly  as  I  have 
told  you  of  mine.  I  will  wait  patiently  until  then. 
But,  little  one,  we  have  talked  and  mused,  and  mused 
and  talked,  until  the  hours  have  slipped  by  us  un- 
heeded, and  now  it  is  so  late  that  you  must  either 
stay  all  night,  or  allow  me  to  send  for  a  carriage  at 
once  to  take  you  home." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  madame.  I  must  go  home.  Late 
as  it  is,  Aunt  Sophie  will  expect  me,"  said  Lilith. 

Madame    Von    Bruyin    touched    the    timbre,    and 


LILITH  129 

ordered  the  attendant  who  answered  the  summons  to 
procure  a  carriage. 

While  Lilith  was  putting  on  her  hat  and  gloves 
the  baroness  said: 

"  You  may  tell  this  dear  Aunt  Sophie  of  the  power 
I  intend  to  place  in  her  hands  to  help  the  poor  little 
children." 

"Oh,  dear  madame,  how  good  you  are!  But  I  would 
rather  not  tell  her.  I  would  rather  you  should  do 
so  first,  for  the  sake  of  seeing  the  happy  surprise  that 
will  light  up  her  face,"  said  Lilith. 

"Very  well,  then.  You  may  expect  me  to-morrow 
morning  at  the  house,"  said  the  baroness. 

The  attendant  entered  the  room  and  announced  the 
carriage. 

"Ask  Monsieur  Le  Grange  to  be  good  enough  to 
step  here,"  said  the  baroness. 

The  man  bowed  and  withdrew. 

"Monsieur,"  said  the  baroness,  when  the  old  secre- 
tary made  his  appearance  and  respectfully  saluted 
the  company,  "will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  see  Mrs. 
Wyvil  home?  The  carriage  waits." 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,  madame,"  answered 
the  old  gentleman,  with  his  habitual  deep  bow,  as 
he  gallantly  offered  his  arm  to  the  young  lady  to  lead 
her  from  the  room. 

The  baroness  drew  Lilith  up  and  kissed  her  cheek 
before  giving  her  into  the  care  of  the  polite  old  sec- 
retary, who  took  her  in  charge,  and  bowed  himself 
out  of  his  lady's  presence. 

He  led  Lilith  down  the  stairs,  placed  her  in  the 
carriage,  took  his  seat  by  her  side,  and  directed  the 
coachman  to  drive  to  Mrs.  Downie's,  number  so  and 
so,  such  a  street. 

It  was  so  late  when  they  reached  their  destination 
that  all  the  lights  were  out  in  the  house,  except  those 
of  the  front  parlor. 


130  LILITH 

The  old  Frenchman  left  the  carriage,  helped  Lilith 
to  alight,  and  led  her  up  to  the  door.  Nor  did  he 
leave  her  until  his  ring  was  answered  and  an  old 
lady  appeared  to  receive  the  returning  guest. 

Then  he  bowed  himself  down  the  steps  to  the  car- 
riage and  drove  off. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  I  was  that  uneasy  about  you;  I  was 
thinking  of  starting  out  to  the  hotel  to  inquire  after 
you,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  as  she  went  into  the  front 
parlor  to  turn  off  the  gas. 

"Why  should  you  have  been  uneasy?  What  harm 
could  have  happened  to  me  even  if  I  had  started  to 
come  home  alone  through  the  streets  of  a  crowded 
city?"  inquired  Lilith,  as  they  went  upstairs  together. 

"What  harm?  Oh,  child,  you  read  the  papers,  and 
see  how  busy  the  devil  is  and  how  artful  his  chil- 
dren are.  Every  once  in  a  while  you  see  an  account 
of  some  child  or  young  girl  kidnapped  and  made  away 
with,  and  I  suppose  as  there's  many  and  many  a 
case  that  never  even  gets  into  the  newspapers." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,  Aunt  Sophie;  but  there 
was  no  danger  in  my  case,  for  madame  sent  me  home 
in  a  carriage,  under  the  care  of  her  aged  secretary." 

"So  I  saw.  So  I  saw.  And  she  was  in  the  right 
of  it.  Well,  my  dear,  it  is  after  one  o'clock,  and  I 
think  we  had  better  get  to  bed  as  soon  as  we  can," 
said  the  old  lady,  as  they  entered  the  double-bedded 
chamber,  which  they  still  occupied  together. 

The  room  vacated  by  the  minister  having  been  taken 
by  the  organist. 

Early  the  next  morning,  as  Aunt  Sophie,  having 
got  through  with  fhe  breakfast,  was  preparing  to  go 
to  market,  Lilith  said  to  her: 

"I  cannot  walk  out  with  you  to-day,  dear.  I  am 
expecting  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin,  and  as  I  do  not 
know  at  what  hour  she  may  find  it  convenient  to 
call,  I  must  stay  in  until  she  does." 


LILITH  131 

"I  am  awful  jealous  of  that  baroness,"  said  the 
little  old  lady,  in  a  pathetic  tone,  shaking  her  little 
rumpled  gray  head. 

"You  need  not  be.  There  is  no  woman  in  the  world 
I  love  half  so  much  as  I  do  you,  dear  Aunt  Sophie," 
said  Lilith. 

"Well,  then,  why  won't  you  live  long  of  me  always 
and  be  my  child,  instead  of  going  off  to  foreign  parts 
with  that  baroness?" 

"Because  it  would  not  be  right,  dear  Aunt  Sophie." 

"Eh,  dear,  it's  a  tiresome  world.  What's  that 
baroness  coming  here  for  to-day?" 

"To  call  on  me,  and  I  think  she  wishes  to  see  you, 
too,  so  I  shall  keep  her  till  you  come  back  from 
market." 

"No,  you  needn't!  I  don't  want  to  see  that  bar- 
oness! That  I  don't,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  as  she  tied 
on  her  little  mashed  black  silk  bonnet,  which,  like 
her  rumpled  fine  gray  hair,  and  little  baby  face,  was 
a  part  of  her  gentle  personality. 

"But  I  want  you  to  see  her,  Aunt  Sophie.  I  think 
you'd  get  over  your  prejudice  against  her." 

"No,  I  shouldn't!  I'm  jealous  of  her.  That's  where 
it  is.  I'm  awful  jealous  of  her,  that  I  am!  But  I'll 
hurry  back  from  market  to  see  her  if  you  want  me 
to.  And  if  I  have  to  do  that  I  must  hurry  away 
now." 

And  the  dear  little  woman  folded  her  rusty  Can- 
ton crape  shawl  across  her  bosom  and  left  the  room. 

Lilith  set  the  bed-chamber  in  order  and  then  went 
down  to  the  front  parlor  to  await  the  coming  of 
Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

But  it  was  twelve  o'clock  before  the  baroness  ar- 
rived. Aunt  Sophie  had  come  home  from  market  and 
"fixed  herself  up"  to  receive  the  great  lady,  by  put- 
ting on  her  Sunday  gown,  a  thin,  rusty  black  silk, 
and  tying  a  bobinet  fichu  crookedly  around  her  neck, 


132  LILITH 

but  she  could  not  sit  in  state  to  receive  her  visitor. 
She  was  too  busy  overseeing  the  cook  get  dinner  for 
the  boarders. 

"Besides,  what  does  she  want  to  see  me  for,  I  would 
like  to  know?"  she  asked  herself. 

So  she  was  shelling  peas  in  the  kitchen  when  word 
was  brought  to  her  that  there  was  a  lady  in  the  parlor 
waiting  to  see  her. 

She  put  the  pan  of  peas  on  the  table,  took  off  her 
"check"  apron,  shook  down  her  dress  and  went  up- 
stairs to  see  the  visitor. 

She  found  a  tall,  beautiful  woman,  dressed  in  deep 
mourning,  the  black  crape  vail  thrown  back,  reveal- 
ing a  fair  face,  with  delicately  blooming  cheeks, 
large,  soft,  violet  eyes,  and  rippling  golden  hair,  just 
visible  under  the  borders  of  her  widow's  cap. 

Gentle  Aunt  Sophie  was  won,  despite  herself, 
by  the  sweet,  pensive  smile  with  which  the  lady  re- 
ceived her  own  rather  cold  greeting,  when  Lilith  had 
introduced  the  parties  to  each  other. 

After  some  little  preliminary  conversation  about 
the  early  setting  in  of  summer;  the  unusual  warmth 
of  the  weather  for  only  the  last  week  in  May;  the 
prospective  sea-voyage  in  June,  and  the  probability 
of  fair  winds  and  good  weather,  the  main  object  of 
Madame  Von  Bruyin's  visit  was  artfully  introduced. 

It  required  some  tact  on  the  part  of  the  baroness 
and  her  young  companion  to  deal  with  a  woman  as 
shy,  jealous  and  peculiar  as  the  minister's  widow, 
under  such  circumstances  as  these. 

But  when  Madame  Von  Bruyio  briefly  explained 
that  the  news  of  Mrs.  Downie's  mission  among  the 
street  children  had  awakened  her  own  interest  to  a 
very  great  extent,  and  had  inspired  her  with  a  wish  to 
serve  them — which,  owing  to  her  swiftly  approach- 
ing embarkation  to  Europe,  she  could  not  personally 
carry  out — and  when  she  begged  as  a  great  personal 


LILITH  133 

favor  that  Mrs.  Downie  would  act  as  her  almoner, 
with  carte  blanche  to  use  the  donation  according  to 
discretion,  and  ended  by  placing  a  check  for  a 
thousand  dollars  in  Aunt  Sophie's  hands — 

Well,  she,  good  soul,  did  not  utter  one  word  of 
thanks! 

But  her  whole  form  vibrated  and  her  face  beamed 
with  joy  and  thankfulness.  Tears  of  joy  filled  her 
eyes  as  she  faltered,  almost  inarticulately: 

"Oh!  how  much  good  you  will  do  with  all  this, 
madame!  How  much  good  you  wrill  do!" 

"If  so,  it  will  be  through  your  hands,  dear  friend," 
replied  the  baroness,  rising  to  take  leave. 

Mrs.  Downie,  with  the  most  old-fashioned,  time-out- 
of-mind  hospitality,  would  have  pressed  her  to  stay 
to  dinner,  to  stay  to  tea,  to  spend  the  whole  eve- 
ning, but  the  baroness  smiled,  pleaded  a  pressure  of 
engagements,  and  departed. 

"She's  good!  she's  mighty  good.  But,  oh!  what 
a  sinner  I  am.  For  I'm  so  awful  jealous  of  her,  all 
the  same.  But  I  can't  help  it,  and  it's  all  because 
of  you,  honey,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  as  soon  as  she  was 
left  alone  with  Lilith.  "I  must  get  the  brethren  to 
pray  for  me,"  she  added. 

From  that  memorable  evening  on  which  Madame 
Von  Bruyin  had  told  her  own  heart  history  to  Lilith 
Here  ward,  the  two  friends  were  drawn  closer  together 
in  sympathy  and  affection. 

It  was  strange  that  Hereward's  young  wife,  though 
she  admired  her  husband's  first  love  so  excessively, 
and  underrated  her  own  self  so  humbly,  yet  felt  no 
great  jealousy  of  her  rival. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  Tudor  himself  had  been 
the  first  to  tell  her  of  that  first  love,  that  mad  though 
"brief  infatuation,"  as  he  had  called  it;  and  because, 
on  referring  to  its  object,  he  had  spoken  of  her  only 
in  terms  of  contempt  and  displeasure;  so,  at  any  rate, 


134  LILITH 

for  this  cause  or  for  that,  Lilith,  on  cool  reflection, 
saw  no  cause  to  be  jealous  of  her  beautiful  rival. 
She  felt  even  some  compassion  for  her,  as  for  a  fel- 
low-sufferer from  Hereward's  great  injustice — for  had 
not  Hereward  denounced  her  as  a  false  woman,  a  self- 
seeker,  a  double-dealer,  a  coquette,  a  traitress,  a  jilt? 
And  all  because  Leda  Von  Kirschberg,  after  having 
promised  her  hand,  discovered  that  she  had  a  heart, 
and  tried  to  do  her  duty  between  the  two! 


CHAPTER  XII 

NATIVE   LAND   ADIEU 

As  THE  day  of  sailing  drew  near,  Lilith's  heart  sank 
into  utter  despondency. 

Tp  to  this  time  she  had  been  almost  unconsciously 
sustained  by  the  recognized  uncertainty  of  human 
affairs;  by  the  deep-seated  hope  that  "something 
might  happen"  to  delay  the  voyage,  or  perhaps  to  put 
it  off  altogether. 

She  watched  the  newspapers  for  news  of  Here- 
ward;  but  she  found  none.  She  knew  that  Congress 
was  still  in  session  in  Washington,  and  she  read  all 
the  Congressional  reports  in  the  hope  of  finding  his 
name;  but  it  was  not  there;  not  in  any  debate;  not 
in  any  speech;  not  even  in  the  mere  rank  and  file 
of  the  yeas  and  nays  when  a  vote  was  taken.  It 
seemed  to  have  dropped  quite  out  of  public  affairs. 
What  had  become  of  that  once  shining  beacon  of 
liberty  and  light? 

Lilith  could  not  even  conjecture. 

She  diligently  searched  the  personal  column  of  the 
Pursuivant;  but  no  carefully  worded  appeal  came  to 
her. 


LILITH  135 

Lilith  could  not  understand  this  utter  silence,  even 
from  Ancillon,  who  had  himself  fixed  in  this  column 
as  the  medium  of  their  intercommunication. 

Ah!  but  Lilith  did  not  know  that  a  coroner's  jury 
had  pronounced  her  dead — and  come  to  her  death 
"from  a  fatal  blow  on  the  back  of  her  head,  inflicted 
by  a  blunt  instrument  held  in  the  hands  of  some  per- 
son unknown,"  and  that  she  had  been  given  up,  if  not 
forgotten,  by  all  her  friends. 

So  Lilith  looked  through  the  papers  day  by  day, 
"hoping  against  hope"  for  some  sign  from  her  silent 
husband. 

"He  knows  that  I  cannot  make  any,"  she  said, 
despairingly,  to  herself.  "He  knows  that  he  dis- 
carded me,  and  drove  me  from  his  home  with  insult 
and  contumely.  He  knows  that  in  my  farewell  letter 
to  him  I  wrote  that  if  ever  he  should  review  his 
course  towards  me,  retract  his  charges  against  me, 
and  permit  me  to  return,  I  would  go  to  him,  and 
be  to  him  all  that  I  have  been — wife,  housekeeper, 
secretary,  guardian  of  his  home,  and  helper  in  his 
office.  Yes,  I  would,  for  although  he  does  not  love 
me,  oh!  my  Heavenly  Father,  I  do  love  him,  and  I 
cannot  help  it!  Oh!  if  I  could  but  return  to  him! 
But  he  does  not  want  me.  He  will  not  have  me.  If 
I  had  stayed  at  Cloud  Cliffs  he  would  have  gone 
away  never  to  return  while  I  'desecrated  the  house' 
with  my  presence!  He  told  me  so!  And  oh!  oh! 
the  scorn  and  hatred  of  his  looks  when  he  spoke 
those  words!  No!  he  will  never  relent.  He  will  never 
retract.  He  will  never  permit  me  to  return — never 
in  this  world.  It  is  no  use  to  hope.  Nothing  is  going 
to  happen  to  bring  us  together.  Nothing  ever  happens 
that  one  either  hopes  or  fears.  A  poor  wretch  con- 
demned to  death  hopes  something  may  happen  to  save 
him;  but  it  does  not,  and  he  dies.  A  happy  girl  look- 
ing forward  to  her  bridal,  fears  something  may  hap- 


136  LILITH 

pen  to  stop  it;  but  it  does  Dot,  and  she  marries.  And 
oh!  ray  Father,  I  still  keep  on  hoping  against  hope; 
looking  against  a  possibility  for  something  to  happen 
to  open  my  husband's  eyes  to  show  him  how  cruelly 
he  has  wronged  me,  to  bring  him  to  my  side.  Hoping 
and  expecting  with  idiotic  persistency.  Yet  I  know 
that  nothing  will  happen.  I  must  'dree  my  weird,' 
as  the  Scotch  say." 

All  this  time  Aunt  Sophie  watched  her  favorite 
with  a  troubled  face,  and  often  with  tearful  eyes. 
At  last  one  day  she  said: 

"There's  something  on  your  mind,  dear,  that  you 
never  let  on  to  any  one  about.  What  is  it,  dear?" 

"It  is  nothing  but  vain  regrets  for  all  that  I  have 
lost,  Aunt  Sophie,  and  foolish,  mad  longings  to  recover 
the  irrecoverable,"  replied  Lilith. 

The  gentle  old  lady  did  not  quite  comprehend  her; 
but  she  said: 

"I  don't  believe  as  you  want  to  go  on  this  voyage, 
child.  I  have  noticed  as  the  nearer  the  time  comes 
the  worse  you  are.  Now,  if  you  don't  want  to  go, 
dear,  don't  you  go — don't  you.  Stay  here  long  o'  me!" 

"Oh!  Aunt  Sophie,  I  do  grieve  to  leave  you,  but 
I  must  go — I  must,"  sighed  Lilith. 

And  she  held  to  her  resolution  in  spite  of  all  the 
good  woman  could  say. 

For  Lilith  felt  that  since  her  husband  would  not 
relent,  would  not  retract,  would  not  call  her  back, 
the  farther  she  could  get  away  from  the  scene  of  her 
suffering  the  more  contented  she  might  be.  In  change 
of  scene  and  foreign  travel  she  might  forget  her 
misery. 

Aunt  Sophie,  since  she  could  not  persuade  her 
favorite  to  stay  with  her,  busied  herself  in  helping 
in  the  final  preparations  for  her  sea  voyage.  She 
packed  little  jars  of  home-made  pickles  and  acid  pre- 


LILITH  137 

serves,  and  little  boxes  of  delicate  biscuits  and  cakes, 
for  Lilith's  private  use. 

"For,"  she  said,  "though  I  know  them  ocean 
steamers  have  all  the  luxuries  that  can  be  bought 
with  money,  yet  I  do  think  as  these  home-made  things 
is  better.  And  though  you  mayn't  be  downright  sea- 
sick, honey,  you're  bound  to  be  a  little  bit  mawkish 
with  the  motion  of  the  vessel,  and  then  these  little 
things  might  suit  your  appetite  when  nothing  else 
would." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  Even  a  cup 
of  tea  is  all  the  sweeter  and  more  refreshing  when 
it  is  poured  out  by  a  friend's  hand,"  replied  Lilith. 
Whereupon  Aunt  Sophie  shed  a  few  tears — weakly, 
not  unhappily. 

The  last  day  before  the  sailing  came.  All  the  lug- 
gage was  to  be  sent  down  on  board  the  steamer  that 
afternoon;  and  the  next  morning  the  baroness  was 
to  call  in  her  carriage  to  pick  up  her  companion  on 
her  way  to  the  ship. 

All  that  forenoon  Aunt  Sophie  wept  softly  to  her- 
self, furtively  wiping  her  eyes  whenever  she  could  get 
a  chance. 

"I  don't  want  the  child  to  see  me  cry.  It  will  only 
make  her  feel  bad,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  dodged 
Lilith. 

At  noon  Lilith's  trunk  was  taken  down  to  the  hall, 
to  wait  for  the  expressman  to  call  and  carry  it  to 
the  ship. 

Lilith  herself,  with  nothing  at  all  to  do,  sat  with 
Aunt  Sophie  at  the  front  parlor  window,  saying  those 
last,  tender  words  that  are  always  repeated  over  and 
over  again  for  days  and  hours  before  parting,  when 
there  came  a  ring  at  the  door  bell,  followed  soon  by 
the  entrance  of  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  private  secre- 
tary to  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin. 


138  LILITH 

The  little  old  gentleman  came  in,  bowing  as  was 
his  wont. 

Mrs.  Downie  got  up  to  leave  the  room — thinking 
that  the  secretary  might  have  brought  some  private 
message  from  the  baroness  to  her  young  companion; 
but  he  prevented  her  by  a  deprecatory  bow  and  a 
polite  disclaimer: 

"Pardon,  madame!  I  have  come  but  to  say  a  word, 
to  make  an  explanation.  I  have  come  from  Madame 
la  Baronne  to  her  beautiful  and  accomplished  dame 
du  compagnie  here,"  he  said,  turning  with  another 
bow  to  Lilith.  "Madame  desires  me  to  say,  to  ex- 
plain, that  she  goes  not  to  Europe  by  the  Kron  Prinz 
to-morrow." 

"She  does  not  sail  by  the  Kron  Prinz!"  exclaimed 
Lilith,  as  if  in  her  surprise  she  could  not  compre- 
hend the  fact. 

"No,  madame.  La  Baronne  has  changed  her  plan. 
She  sails  not  to-morrow." 

"Has  she  changed  her  mind  about  going  to 
Europe?"  inquired  Lilith,  with  new  hope  lighting  her 
eyes  at  this  reprieve. 

"No,  madame.  She  has  not  changed  her  mind,  but 
only  her  ship.  She  will  go  by  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  on 
Saturday." 

"Dear  me,  what  a  pity!  Why,  she  will  lose  all  her 
passage  money!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Downie,  whose 
economical  soul  was  dismayed  at  such  a  useless  sacri- 
fice of  the  "needful." 

"She  will  lose  the  half  of  it,  madame,  for  herself 
and  all  her  suite,  and  that  is  considerable,  as  her  suite 
is  large.  But  she  goes,  after  all,  by  a  ship  of  the  same 
line." 

"Well,  honey,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  turning  to  Lilith, 
"at  least  this  will  give  me  three  days  more  of  your 
dear  company;  and  who  knows? — before  Saturday 
something  may  happen  to  prevent  your  going  at  all.'' 


LILITH  139 

"Oh,  no!"  sighed  Lilith  "Nothing  will  happen. 
Nothing  one  hopes  or  fears  ever  happens." 

"Now,  what  was  the  reason  why  the  baroness  put 
off  her  voyage  for  only  three  days  at  such  a  cost  as 
that?"  inquired  simple  Aunt  Sophie,  asking  a  ques- 
tion that  Lilith  had  longed  to  ask  but  had  shrunk 
from  patting. 

"I  do  not  know,  madame.  Her  resolution  was  taken 
very  suddenly  this  morning,"  said  the  secretary,  rising 
to  take  leave. 

"Has  the  baroness  any  commands  for  me?"  inquired 
Lilith,  also  rising. 

"No,  madame,  none,"  replied  the  secretary,  bow- 
ing himself  out. 

"'Well,  of  all  the  whims  I  ever  heard  of  in  my  life!" 
exclaimed  Aunt  Sophie.  "But,  anyways,  'it  is  an  ill 
wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good.'  And  this  here 
'whim'  has  blown  me  the  blessing  of  your  company 
for  three  days  more,  honey,  and  something  may 
happen." 

Lilith  shook  her  head  incredulously. 

She  gave  all  her  time  to  Aunt  Sophie  that  day  and 
the  next  day,  when  the  old  lady  said  to  her: 

"To  think,  now,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  whim  of 
the  baroness  you  would  now  have  been  on  the  ocean, 
instead  of  sitting  here  beside  me.  And  maybe  you 
won't  go  on  Saturday,  neither,  who  knows?  Some- 
thing may  happen." 

But  again  Lilith  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon  a  note  came  from 
the  baroness  to  Lilith. 

"Come  to  me  this  evening,  my  dear,  and  I  will  tell 
you  why  I  changed  my  ship.  The  news  will  astonish 
you,  I  think,  and  it  may  indeed  change  my  whole 
destiny.  Tell  your  good  landlady  not  to  expect  you 
back  soon,  as  I  shall  keep  you  until  a  late  hour,  and 


140  LILITH 

then  return  you  safe,  as  before,  under  the  escort  of 

Monsieur   Le    Grange.     Answer   by   the    messenger. 

"Affectionately,  L.  V.  B.J 


n 


Lilith  wrote  a  note  to  the  effect  that  she  would 
wait  on  the  baroness  at  seven  o'clock  that  evening, 
and  sent  it  by  the  page  who  had  brought  the  first. 

Then  she  showed  the  baroness'  note  to  Aunt 
Sophie,  who,  after  hearing  it  read,  was  filled  with 
curiosity. 

"Now  what  on  earth  can  she  have  to  tell  you  that 
will  astonish  you  so  much?  Maybe  she  is  going  to 
marry  the  old  secretary,  and  wants  you  to  be  brides- 
maid!" said  Aunt  Sophie. 

Lilith  looked  at  the  simple  woman  and  laughed.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  laughed  since  her  heavy 
sorrow. 

"Well,  now,  stranger  things  than  that  has  hap- 
pened, honey;  let  alone  the  fact  that  nobody  can  ever 
account  for  the  whims  of  these  fine  ladies.  And  come 
to  think  of  it,  didn't  she  marry  an  old  man  for  her 
first  husband?  Maybe  she  has  a  fancy  for  old  men. 
Some  women  have,  I  know,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  nod- 
ding her  head  sagaciously. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Lilith,  remembering  Mrs.  Jab  Jor- 
don,  and  being  unable  to  gainsay  Aunt  Sophie's  dec- 
laration— "perhaps;  but  I  do  not  think  Madame  Von 
Bruyin  is  one  of  those  women.  She  married  the  Herr 
Baron  to  please  her  father." 

"She  don't  look  to  me  like  one  as  would  do  any- 
thing as  didn't  please  herself  just  as  well.  She  is  a 
good  lady,  a  mighty  good  lady,  and  a  generous  and 
a  charitable  one,  and  she  give  me  a  great  deal  of 
money  for  the  poor  children.  And  I  shall  always  be 
thankful  to  her  and  pray  for  her,  and  get  the  breth- 
ren to  pray  for  her;  but  all  the  same,  she's  got  a  will 


LILITH  141 

of  her  own,  my  dear.    She  will  have  her  own  way — 
you  may  depend  she  will. 

'Gin  mammie  and  daddie  and  a'  gang  mad,' 

as  the  old  song  says." 

"Well,  I  shall  know  to-morrow  why  she  has  delayed 
her  voyage,"  said  Lilith. 

"Yes,  and  if  she  is  going  to  marry  the  old  secre- 
tary— and  a  nice  old  gentleman  he  is,  too,  I  will  say 
that  for  him — she  won't  want  you,  my  dear.  It's 
only  rich  old  maids  and  rich  widows  as  wants  com- 
panions— married  women  don't.  And  so  she'll  let  you 
off  your  bargain  and  pay  you  compensation,  which  is 
no  more  than  right  and  proper,  she  being  wealthy  and 
generous  and  you  being  a  young  orphan.  And  that's 
what's  going  to  happen,  maybe,  to  prevent  your  voy- 
age, and  I  shall  have  you  all- to  myself.  Who  knows?" 

"I  do  not  think  that  will  happen,  Aunt  Sophie." 

"Well,  we'll  see." 

"Yes,  very  soon.    This  very  evening." 

"And  if  it  is  that  which  I  said,  of  course  we  shall 
all  hear  it.  But  if  it  is  anything  else  that  has  made 
her  change  her  day  of  sailing,  will  you  tell  me?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie,  unless  the  communication  of 
the  baroness  to  me  should  be  of  a  confidential  na- 
ture," said  Lilith. 

"How  I  do  hate  secrets!  I  never  had  one  of  my 
own  in  my  life,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  with  funny  sim- 
plicity. 

When  evening  came  Lilith  set  out  to  walk  to  the 
hotel  to  keep  her  appointment  with  the  baroness. 

When  she  reached  that  lady's  apartments,  how- 
ever, she  was  met  by  the  secretary,  who,  after  politely 
greeting  her,  explained  the  absence  of  the  baroness. 

"Madame  is  ill!  She  is  ill!  Headache.  Migraine, 
you  know,"  he  said,  in  a  very  pathetic  tone.  "She 


LILITH 

lies  in  a  room  pitch,  dark;  her  maid  sits  beside  her, 
silent  as  death.  It  is  a  vault — it  is  a  grave,  for  she 
cannot  bear  the  faintest  ray  of  light,  or  murmur  of 
sound.  She  can  see  no  one;  but  before  she  retired 
to  her  bed  she  bade  me  receive  you  here,  excuse  her 
to  you,  and  say  to  you,  in  brief,  that  the  reason  why 
she  changed  her  steamer  was  that  there  was  a  party 
going  by  the  Kron  Prinz  with  whom  she  did  not  wish 
to  sail,  and  that  she  would  explain  further  when  you 
meet.  Meanwhile,  chere  madame,  all  arrangements 
are  completed  for  our  embarkation  on  the  Kaiser 
Wilhelm  on  Saturday  morning.  Our  baggage  will  be 
sent  on  board  on  Friday  evening." 

Lilith  thanked  the  old  secretary  for  his  informa- 
tion, left  her  sympathetic  regrets  for  Madame  Von 
Bruyin,  and  arose  to  depart. 

"I  will  have  the  honor  to  see  you  home,  madame," 
said  the  polite  secretary,  as  he  attended  Lilith  down- 
stairs and  out  to  the  sidewalk. 

There,  as  before,  he  called  a  carriage,  put  her  into 
it,  took  a  seat  by  her  side  and  ordered  the  coachman 
to  drive  to  Mrs.  Downie's  boarding-house. 

He  only  left  Lilith  when  he  had  seen  her  enter  the 
hall. 

"And  now,  honey,  what  is  it?"  inquired  Aunt 
Sophie,  as  soon  as  the  two  friends  were  seated  in  the 
front  parlor  together.  "You  are  back  a  heap  sooner 
than  I  expected.  What  did  she  tell  you?" 
•  "Nothing.  I  did  not  see  her.  She  has  gone  to  bed 
with  a  severe  headache.  But  she  left  a  short  mes- 
sage for  me  with  Monsieur  Le  Grange  to  the  effect 
that  the  reason  why  she  would  not  sail  by  the  Kron 
Prinz  was  that  there  was  a  party  going  by  that 
steamer  with  whom  she  did  not  wish  to  travel,"  an- 
swered Lilith. 

"Now,  did  ever  any  soul  hear  the  like  of  that?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Downie.  "If  that  doesn't  cap  all  the 


LILITH  143 

whims  I  ever  heard  of  in  all  the  days  of  my  life! 
But  I  ought'nt  to  say  anything  agin'  her,  I  oughtn't 
indeed,  for  she's  a  mighty  good  lady  and  a  charitable 
one,  and  she  give  me  such  a  heap  of  money  for  the 
poor  street  children." 

Lilith  saw  no  more  of  Madame  Von  Bruyin  until 
Saturday  morning,  when  the  baroness  called  in  her 
carriage  to  pick  up  her  companion  on  her  way  to  the 
steamer. 

Madame  got  out  of  her  coach  and  went  into  the 
house  for  the  purpose  of  bidding,  good-bye  to  Mrs. 
Downie,  whom  she  found  crying  over  Lilith. 

"You'll  be  good  to  the  child,  madame!  I  know 
you  will  be  good  to  her!  I  believe,  I  hope,  I  trust 
you  will,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  a  little  inconsistently, 
as,  after  reiterated  leave-taking,  she  resigned  Lilith 
into  the  charge  of  the  baroness. 

"Have  no  fear.  She  shall  be  happy,  if  I  can  make 
her  so,"  said  the  lady.  And  then,  with  a  sudden 
impulse  of  kindness,  she  added  the  question: 

"Would  you  not  like  to  go  down  to  the  ship  and 
see  us  off?  Come  with  us — do!  And  the  same  car- 
riage can  bring  you  back  to  your  own  door." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  yes.  Indeed,  indeed,  I  would. 
And  I  won't  be  a  minute  in  getting  on  my  things," 
said  the  grateful  old  lady,  as  she  hurried  from  the 
room. 

In  a  very  few  moments  she  reappeared  with  her 
mashed  black  silk  bonnet,  rusty  black  Canton  crape 
shawl,  and  thread  gloves. 

The  three  went  out  to  the  carriage,  in  which  the 
old  Frenchman  had  remained  seated.  When  they  ap- 
peared he  got  out,  politely  saluted  the  party,  handed 
them  into  their  seats,  and  then  followed  them. 

The  four  persons  just  comfortably  filled  the  car- 
riage. Madame's  maid  and  footman  followed  in  an- 


144  LILITH 

other  carriage,  having  charge  of  their  lady's  lighter 
luggage. 

And  so  they  started  to  drive  down  the  avenue  to 
the  ferry  by  which  they  were  to  cross  to  Hoboken, 
from  which  point  the  steamer  was  to  sail. 

Arrived  at  the  pier  on  the  other  side,  they  found 
their  ship,  and  in  and  about  it  a  crowd,  mostly  com- 
posed of  foreigners,  commercial  travelers,  returning 
German  emigrants,  and  a  few  summer  tourists. 

Aunt  Sophie  accompanied  her  friends  on  board  the 
steamer,  and  became  an  interested  and  sympathetic 
spectator  of  the  busy  and  affecting  scene  around  her. 
Some  of  the  leave-takings  touched  her  tender  heart 
even  to  tears,  and  made  her  think  of  the  happy  land 
where  there  would  be  "no  more  sorrow  nor  crying," 
and  she  kept  on  fortifying  her  mind  by  repeating  over 
and  over  to  herself  the  lines  of  her  hymn : 

"Oh,  that  will  be  joyful! 
Joyful,  joyful,  joyful! 
Oh,  that  will  be  joyful 
To  meet,  to  part  no  more! 
To  meet  to  part  no  more, 
On  Canaan's  happy  shore, 
Where  we  shall  meet 
At  Jesus'  feet, 
And  meet  to  part  no  more!" 

Tears  were  in  her  tender  eyes  while  the  music  of 
the  simple  hymn  was  sounding  through  her  spirit. 

Farewells  were  falling  from  faltering  lips  and  fail- 
ing hearts  all  around  her.  And  in  a  saloon  not  far 
off  a  party  of  Germans  were  celebrating  their  em- 
barkation by  drinking  lager  and  singing  songs,  in 
which  Fatherland  was  the  most  frequent  word  and 
the  chorus. 

But  Aunt  Sophie  heard  none  of  this.  She  was  in  a 
dream. 


LILITH  145 

She  was  aroused  by  the  gentle  voice  of  Lilith  in 
her  ear,  saying: 

"Aunt  Sophie,  the  baroness  says  you  have  just 
time  to  bid  us  good-bye  and  get  comfortably  back 
to  the  pier.  Monsieur  Le  Grange  is  waiting  here  to 
take  you  to  the  carriage,  after  which  he  will  barely 
have  time  to  return  to  us  before  the  plank  is  drawn. 
Dear  Aunt  Sophie,  the  moment  has  come.  Bid  me 
good-bye  and  give  me  your  blessing." 

Mrs.  Downie  caught  Lilith  to  her  breast,  burst  into 
tears  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Lilith  kissed  her  repeatedly,  reiterating  all  the 
promises  she  had  ever  made,  never  to  forget  her, 
always  to  love  her,  often  to  write  to  her,  and  soon 
as  possible  to  return. 

"Madame,  I  must  have  the  honor,  if  you  please," 
said  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  with  kindly  firmness,  as 
he  drew  the  arm  of  the  little  old  lady  within  his 
own  and  led  her  off  to  the  gang  plank,  over  which  a 
sad  procession  was  passing  to  the  pier. 

She  had  not  even  remembered  to  take  leave  of  the 
baroness. 

In  five  minutes  Monsieur  Le  Grange  returned  to 
the  deck,  rejoined  Madame  Von  Bruyin's  party  and 
reported : 

"Madame  Downie  has  serened  herself  on  the 
cushions  of  the  carriage.  She  repeats  to  herself  some 
consoling  office  of  her  religion.  She " 

But  the  good  secretary's  voice  was  drowned  in  the 
loud  report  of  the  farewell  gun. 

And  the  next  minute  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  stood  out 
to  sea. 

It  was  two  hours  later.  Most  of  the  passengers 
had  gone  below,  either  to  arrange  their  berths,  or  to 
guard  against  the  first  approaches  of  sea-sickness. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  and  her  young  companion  sat 
well  forward  on  the  deck  and  quite  out  of  hearing 


146  LILITH 

of  any  fellow-voyager.  They  had  been  silently  gaz- 
ing out  to  sea  for  a  few  minutes,  when  the  baroness 
suddenly  turned  to  her  companion  and  said: 

"I  presume  Monsieur  Le  Grange  gave  you  my  mes- 
sage that  evening  when  you  came  to  the  hotel  and 
found  me  too  ill  to  keep  my  appointment?" 

"Yes,  madame." 

"And  he  told  you  my  reason  for  changing 
steamers?" 

"Yes,  madame,  very  briefly,  to  the  effect  that  there 
was  a  party  on  board  the  Kron  Prinz  with  whom 
you  did  not  wish  to  travel." 

"Yes,  that  was  my  short  message;  but  he  also 
added,  if  he  reported  me  aright,  that  I  woulld  explain 
further  when  we  should  meet." 

"He  told  me  that,  madame." 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  suppose  you  could  never  be  able 
to  guess  who  it  was  from  whom  I  shrank  on  the 
Kron  Prinz." 

"No,  I  am  sure  I  could  not.  I  have  known  so  very 
few  of  your  acquaintances,  madame." 

"Yet  of  this  especial  acquaintance  I  have  spoken 
to  you  more  than  once.  Surely  now  you  can  guess 
who  it  is  that  has  gone  before  us  to  Europe  in  the 
Kron  Prinz,  can  you  not?" 

"No,  madame;  unless — unless  it  was  Prince  Carl  of 
Altenburg " 

"Prince  Carl?  Well,  you  know,  of  course,  he  was 
a  bore,  and  worried  me  not  a  little;  but  I  should  not 
have  changed  my  steamer  on  his  account,  even  if  he 
had  been  on  board  the  Kron  Prinz,  which  he  was  not. 
No,  you  must  try  again." 

"I  am  sure  I  cannot  guess,  madame,"  said  Lilith, 
with  a  smile,  but  with  no  interest  in  the  question. 

"Then  I  must  tell  you,"  said  the  lady;  and  drop- 
ping her  voice,  she  added:  "Who  should  it  be  but 
my  old  lover,  Mr.  Tudor  Hereward,  who  has  just 


LILITH  147 

been  appointed  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  Court 
of ." 

Lilith  grew  cold  as  death,  but  did  not  reply. 

The  baroness,  too  full  of  the  subject,  and  of  her 
own  possible  fortunes  in  connection  with  it,  failed  to 
notice  her  companion's  silence,  and  went  on  eagerly 
to  say: 

"Yes,  I  first  saw  the  announcement  of  his  appoint- 
ment, and 'of  his  intended  voyage  on  the  Kron  Prinz, 
in  the  Pursuivant  of  Tuesday  morning.  And  I  saw 
something  more  in  connection  with  his  history  that 
surprised  me  very  much — something  that  seemed  to 
render  it  indelicate,  embarrassing,  and  even  improper 
for  me  to  make  this  sea  voyage  in  his  company.  But 
we  shall  be  sure  to  meet  on  the  other  side.  And  that 
meeting  will  probably  decide  our  destinies.  For  now, 
my  dear,  we  are  both  free!" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

LILITH    REVEALS    HERSELF 

There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove  and  spring 
The  earth  and  every  common  sight, 

To  her  did  seem 
Appareled  in  celestial  light, 

The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream. 
It  is  not  now  as  it  hath  been  before; 
Turn  wheresoe'er  she  may, 

By  night  or  day, 

The  things  that  she  hath  seen  she  now  can  see  no  more. 
Waters  on  a  starry  night, 
Sunshine  is  a  glorious  birth, 
Yet  she  knows,  where'er  she  goes, 
That  there  hath  passed  away  a  glory  from  the  earth. 

Wordsworth. 


148  LILITH 

"  'THAT  meeting  may  decide'  your  'destinies!' 
How?"  inquired  Lilith,  in  a  low,  steady  tone,  which 
it  required  all  her  powers  of  self-control  to  regulate. 

"Oh,  my  child,  did  you  never  hear  the  homely  old 
adage  concerning  lovers — that  'old  coals  are  soon 
kindled?'  We — Tudor  Hereward  and  Leda  Von 
Bruyin — have  only  to  meet  to  come  to  a  good  under- 
standing. My  dear,  we  love  one  another.  That  is 
the  reason  why,  under  present  circumstances,  I  did 
not  choose  to  cross  the  ocean  in  the  same  steamer 
with  him.  Nor  do  I  wish  to  meet  him  for  some 
months  yet.  We  could  not,  under  any  circumstances, 
unite  our  destinies  in  less  than  twelve  or  eighteen 
months,  you  know,"  said  the  baroness,  speaking  with 
much  self-complacence. 

"  'Unite  your  destinies?'  "  repeated  Lilith,  in  the 
same  low  tone. 

"Why,  yes!  Don't  you  understand?  Why,  marry, 
of  course!  Mr.  Hereward  and  myself  understand  each 
other  at  heart,  I  feel  sure,  although  we  parted  in 
mutual  displeasure,  and  have  never  written  or  spoken 
to  each  other  since." 

"But — his — wife?"  queried  Lilith,  in  a  low,  hesi- 
tating voice. 

"Oh,  well,  his  wife!  I  am  sorry  for  her,  poor  child! 
Really  sorry  for  her!  And  he,  too,  must  be  sorry 
that  she  met  such  an  awful  fate,"  said  the  baroness, 
pausing  and  falling  into  thought. 

"What  fate  did  she  meet?"  inquird  Lilith,  in  the 
same  constrained,  low  monotone. 

"Why,  don't  you  know?  Did  not  I  tell  you?  Oh, 
no!  I  believe  I  did  not.  I  said  that  we  were  both 
free,  however,  and  you  must  have  understood  what 
that  meant." 

"No,  I  did  not." 

"It  meant,  of  course,  that  his  wife  was  dead,  as 


LILITH  149 

well  as  my  husband — the  two  events  setting  us  both 
free  to  marry  again." 

"His  wife — dead!  Tudor  Hereward's  wife — dead  I 
Madame,  what  reason  have  you  for  supposing  so?" 
demanded  Lilith,  in  a  low  but  firm  tone. 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  surprised  and  in- 
credulous! It  is  so  strange  that  the  young  wife,  with 
perhaps  seventy  years  of  life  before  her,  should  have 
been  cut  off  by  accident  so  soon;  but  strange  things 
do  happen  in  this  uncertain  old  world  of  ours!  And, 
my  dear,  it  is  true — Tudor  Hereward's  wife  is  dead."* 

"Dead?  Yes,  in  some  sense  of  the  word,  she  is 
dead,  I  suppose,"  muttered  Lilith  to  herself.  Then 
slightly  raising  her  voice  she  inquired:  "Are  you  sure 
that  she  is  dead,  madame?" 

"As  sure  as  I  can  be  of  anything  in  this  world.  I 
knew  nothing  about  it  until  I  read  what  seemed  to 
be  a  resume  of  the  whole  story  in  the  Pursuivant. 
Strange  how  we  sometimes  read  and  forget  things 
without  having  the  slightest  idea  of  their  significance 
to  us!  Some  weeks  ago  I  read  in  the  papers  that 
the  body  of  an  unknown  young  woman  had  been 
found  in  the  woods  on  Cave  Creek,  near  Frosthill 
in  West  Virginia.  I  read  it  without  the  faintest  idea 
that  I,  or  any  one  connected  with  me,  could  have 
any  interest  in  that  fact.  And  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it  until  I  read  in  the  Pursuivant  of  Tuesday 
the  announcement  of  Tudor  Hereward's  appointment 
as  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  Court  of  -  — ,  and 
the  theory  that  he  had  only  accepted  the  appoint- 
ment in  order  to  seek,  by  serving  his  country  in 
foreign  lands,  some  benefit  to  his  health,  broken  down 
by  grief  for  the  tragic  fate  of  his  young  wife." 

"Merciful  Heaven!"  breathed  Lilith  to  herself. 

"And  then,  my  dear,"  continued  the  baroness,  un- 
conscious of  the  interruption,  "the  whole  story  was 
gathered  up  and  rehearsed — how  young  Mrs.  Here- 


150  LILITH 

ward  was  missing  from  her  home  on  the  night  of  the 
21st  of  March,  and  how  no  trace  of  her  could  be  found 
until  about  the  middle  of  April,  when  a  body,  much 
decomposed,  was  discovered  in  the  woods  on  the  banks 
of  Cave  Creek,  which,  after  much  investigation,  con- 
tradictory evidence  and  dispute,  was  proved  beyond 
all  possibility  of  doubt  to  be  that  of  Tudor  Hereward's 
young  wife." 

"How  very  strange!"  muttered  Lilith. 

"Yes — very  strange.  It  must  have  given  Mr.  Here- 
ward  a  great  shock,  even  though  he  never  loved  the 
poor,  inane  young  creature." 

"No;  of  course,  he  never  loved  her!"  sighed  Lilith. 

"How  could  he  love  her?  He  loved  me — madly, 
passionately,  idolatrously — at  the  very  time  that  he 
married  her.  Why,  I  had  rejected  him  only  a  few 
hours  before  he  proposed  to  her!  And  oh!  what  a 
fool  she  must  have  been  to  have  accepted  a  man  who 
had  never  wooed  her — accepted  him  at  his  very  first 
word!  I  am  sorry  for  the  poor  thing,  but  you  must 
acknowledge  that  she  was  a  great  idiot,  and  in  no  way 
a  fit  and  proper  wife  for  Tudor  Hereward." 

"I  do  acknowledge  it;  but — but  perhaps  she  loved 
him,"  meekly  suggested  Lilith. 

"That  does  not  excuse  her  for  snatching  at  a  man's 
first  offer." 

"But  do  you  think  it  was  quite  right  in  him  to  ask 
a  girl  to  be  his  wife  when  he  could  not  love  her  at 
all?" 

"No,  indeed;  I  do  not.  I  think  he  did  her  a  most 
grievous  wrong.  I  told  him  so  in  Washington  when 
he  announced  his  marriage  to  me.  But,  then,  my  dear, 
he  was  half  mad  with  rage,  jealousy  and  disappoint- 
ment. He  married  her  to  be  revenged  upon  me — noth- 
ing more." 

"It  was  a  pity  for  the  poor,  unloved  wife!"  breathed 
Lilith. 


LILITH  151 

"Indeed  it  was — poor  child.  And  no  doubt  lie  re- 
pents the  wrong  he  did  her,  now  that  she  has  met 
so  cruel  a  fate — robbed  and  murdered  by  tramps,  it 
is  supposed,  while  she  was  on  her  way  to  relieve  the 
wants  of  a  sick  and  destitute  neighbor.  Remorse  is 
harder  to  bear  than  sorrow,  and  no  doubt  it  is  re- 
morse for  the  wrongs  he  had  done  her,  and  not  sorrow 
for  the  loss  of  the  wife  whom  he  never  loved,  that 
is  breaking  down  his  health.  However,  he  will  get 
over  it  in  time,"  said  the  lady,  complacently. 

"And — you  expect — some  day — to  bestow  on  him 
— your  hand  in  marriage?"  slowly  questioned  Lilith. 

"Yes,  my  dear;  I  mean  to  do  him  that  justice — to 
give  him  that  consolation.  We  are  both  so  young 
yet.  He  is  not  thirty,  I  am  but  a  little  more  than 
twenty  years  of  age.  We  have  a  long  life  before  us, 
in  which  I  shall  do  all  that  in  me  lies  to  make  him 
forget  his  earl}7  disappointments  and  sorrows;  to  make 
him  as  completely  blessed  and  happy  as  woman  can 
make  man,"  said  the  baroness,  with  more  depth  of 
feeling  in  her  thrilling  tones  than  Lilith  had  ever  de- 
tected there  before. 

A  dead  silence  followed  these  last  words.  Then 
at  length  Lilith  spoke  in  a  low,  firm,  steady  voice: 

"Madame,  you  must  not  dream  of  your  future  life 
in  connection  with  that  of  Tudor  Hereward." 

"What!  Why  must  I  not?  Whatever  do  you  mean? 
Why,  I  ask  you?"  demanded  the  surprised  baroness. 

"Because  it  would  be  a  great  sin." 

"Sin!     Why  a  sin?" 

"Because  Tudor  Hereward's  wife  still  lives,"  replied 
Lilith,  in  a  voice  of  such  unnatural,  mechanical  calm- 
ness that  it  did  not  seein  to  come  from  living  lips. 

"Tudor  Hereward's  wrife  still  lives?"  demanded  the 
baroness,  in  slow,  questioning,  incredulous  tones. 
"What  can  you  know  about  it?  Her  dead  body  was 
found — was  identified;  what,  then,  do  you  mean  by 


152  LILITH 

saying  that  she  still  lives?  And  what  can  you  know 
about  it,  in  any  case?" 

"Madame,  I  do  not  dispute  that  some  woman's  dead 
body  was  found  near  her  dwelling.  I  know  not  whose 
it  was;  but  I  do  know  that  it  was  not  Tudor  Here- 
ward's  wife's." 

"How  dare  you  say  so!  How  can  you  know  any- 
thing about  the  matter?"  demanded  the  baroness,  al- 
most indignantly. 

"Because,  madame — oh,  forgive  me — because — I — I 
am  Mr.  Hereward's — most  unhappy  wife!"  answered 
Lilith,  dropping  her  head  in  her  hands  with  a  low, 
heart-breaking  moan. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  between  the  two  for  a  few 
minutes. 

The  baroness  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You?  You  the  wife  of  Tudor  Hereward?  Im- 
possible!" she  muttered,  glaring  down  on  the  little 
bowed  head. 

Lilith's  bosom  heaved  with  a  silent  sob;  but  she 
did  not  reply. 

"You  the  wife  of  Mr.  Tudor  Hereward?  I  say  it 
is  impossible!"  repeated  Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

"I  would  to  Heaven  that  it  were  impossible," 
moaned  Lilith. 

"It  cannot  be  true!"  reiterated  the  baroness. 

"I  call  Heaven  to  witness  that  it  is  true,  madame. 
I  am  very  sorry — I  beg  you  to  forgive  me — I  should 
never  have  told  you,  madame,  but  to  save  you  from 
vain  and  sinful  hopes  and  dreams.  Indeed,  I  am 
very  sorry,  and  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me." 

"You  are,  then,  the  child-wife  whom  Tudor  Here- 
ward married  in  haste  and  in  rage  to  be  revenged  on 
me?"  sternly  demanded  the  baroness. 

Lilith,  with  her  face  still  buried  in  her  hands,  an- 
swered by  a  nod  and  a  silent  sob. 


LILITH  153 

"You  seem,  then,  to  have  entered  my  service  under 
false  pretences?"  sneered  the  lady. 

"No,  madame,"  gently  replied  Lilith,  "under  no 
false  pretences.  Under  reserve,  if  you  please,  under 
reticence  in  regard  to  my  past  life,  but  under  no  false 
pretences." 

"You  entered  my  service  as  a  widow." 

"Pardon  me,  madame,  I  never  told  you  that  I  was 
a  widow.  I  signed  my  name  to  my  letters,  Eliza- 
beth Wyvil.  When  we  met  you  called  me  Miss 
Wyvil.  I  told  you  that  I  was  not  'Miss'  Wyvil.  You 
then  took  it  for  granted  that  I  was  Mrs.  and  a  widow 
— as,  indeed,  I  was  in  fate,  if  not  in  law.  Remember, 
dear  madame,  that  I  gave  you  my  college  testimonials 
as  references,  and  told  you  that  the  good  women  who 
allowed  me  to  refer  to  them — I  mean  Mrs.  Ponsonby, 
of  Baltimore,  and  Mrs.  Downie,  of  New  York — really 
knew  very  little  of  me,  but  had  taken  me  up  in  faith 
and  charity." 

"But  why  did  you  call  yourself  Mrs.  Wyvil,  and 
allow  yourself  to  be  considered  as  a  widow,  when  your 
name  was  Hereward?"  demanded  the  lady. 

"Because  my  husband,  on  the  day  that  he  dis- 
carded me,  forbade  me  to  use  his  family  name;  and 
in  obedience  to  him  I  dropped  it,  retaining  only  my 
own  maiden  name — Elizabeth  Wyvil.  I  could  not  ex- 
plain this  fact  to  you  without  accusing  my  husband. 
Nor  should  I  explain  now  but  to  prevent  a  great  evil," 
said  Lilith. 

Again  silence  fell  between  them,  which  Lilith  was 
the  first  to  break: 

"You  never  once  questioned  me  as  to  my  state, 
madame.  If  you  had  asked  me  plainly,  'Are  you  a 
widow?'  I  must  have  told  you  that  I  was  not  except 
in  fate.  But  you  took  it  for  granted  that  because  I 
was  not  'Miss'  Wyvil  I  must  be  a  widow." 


15-f  LILITH 

"Yes,  you  are  right.  It  was  my  own  assumption," 
said  the  baroness. 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  I  have  been  with  you  in  a 
mistaken  position.  I  am  ready  to  make  any  amends 
in  my  power;  ready  even  to  leave  your  service  at  this 
moment,  if  it  be  your  wish  that  I  should  do  so." 

"This  moment!  Why,  you  are  out  at  sea  and  will 
have  no  opportunity  to  leave  until  we  reach  H-avre." 

"I  remember  that,  madame;  but  if  you  wish  to 
part  with  me,  I  can  leave  you  without  leaving  the 
ship.  I  can  refund  my  passage  money,  and  end  our 
connection  now  and  here." 

"And  what  would  you  do  then?" 

"As  soon  as  we  reach  Havre  take  passage  in  the 
first  ship  back  to  New  York,  and  return  to  Mrs. 
Downie." 

"Does  she  know  your  true  story?" 

"No;  she  knows  me  only  as  Elizabeth  Wyvil.  And 
by  that  name  only  must  I  be  known,  since  my  hus- 
band has  forbidden  me  to  use  his." 

"My  dear,  I  do  not  wish  to  part  with  you.  But 
tell  me,  since  you  have  told  me  the  fact,  why  did  your 
husband  part  with  you?" 

"Madame,  you  yourself  gave  the  reason.  I  was  not 
'fit'  to  be  his  wife,"  said  Lilith,  mournfully. 

"My  dear,  I  should  never  have  said  that  if  I  had 
known  you,"  replied  the  baroness,  who,  notwithstand- 
ing her  own  disappointed  love  for  Tudor  Hereward, 
still  felt  hpr  heart  drawn  in  pity  towards  his  young 
discarded  wife — the  youthful  stranger  to  whom  she 
had  been  so  strongly  attracted  at  first  sight,  and  whom 
in  after  intercourse  she  had  grown  to  love. 

"But  I  am  surprised  that  you,  who  are  so  different 
from  the  girl  whom  I  had  imagined  as  Hereward's 
hastily  married  wife — yon  who  are  gifted  with  rare 
intelligence  and  sensibility — should  have  condo- 


LILITH  155 

scended  to  marry  him  at  such  very  short  notice.    How 
was  it?"  gently  inquired  the  baroness. 

The  answer  came  low  and  soft : 

"Because  I  loved  him,  and  believed  he  loved  me." 

"You  believed  he  loved  you.  Had  he  ever  told  you 
so?"  demanded  the  lady. 

"Xo,  never.  Tudor  Hereward  never  spoke  an  un- 
truth." 

"Then  what  reason,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  had 
you  for  thinking  that  he  loved  you?" 

"Because  he  asked  me  to  become  his  wife.  Of 
course  I  never  once  imagined  that  he  could  have  any 
other  motive  than  affection  for  wishing  to  marry  me?" 

"But  did  not  the  suddenness  of  the  proposal — for 
an  immediate  marriage,  too — awaken  your  sus- 
picions?" 

"No;  for  it  was  his  dying  father's  wish  to  see  us 
married  by  his  bedside  before  he  should  pass  away." 

"Oh!  That  puts  quite  a  new  face  upon  the  whole 
proceeding.  Poor  child!  To  please  that  dying  father 
you  consented  to  marry  that  son  at  a  moment's 
notice." 

"No,  madame;  no.  It  was,  as  I  said,  because  I  loved 
Tudor  Hereward,  and  believed  he  loved  me,  that  I 
consented.  Otherwise  I  should  never  have  done  so, 
even  to  satisfy  the  beloved,  dying  father,  though  I 
would  willingly  have  died  to  redeem  his  life,  had  that 
been  possible,"  earnestly  answered  Lilith. 

"Ah,  well!  You  loved  him,  and  I  suppose  he  knew 
it.  That  redeems  the  affair  from  utter  abomination. 
But  perhaps  you  do  not  like  to  speak  of  your  short 
union  with  Mr.  Hereward?" 

"  I  do  not  shrink  from  speaking  of  it,  nor  do  I  break 
any  faith  in  speaking  of  him,  for,  madame,  we  are 
parted  more  effectually  than  even  death,    can    part 
those  who  love  each  other." 
"But  you  love  him?" 


156  LILITH 

Lilith  answered  by  a  deep,  silent  sob  as  she  dropped 
her  face  into  her  hands. 

"And  you  are  so  young!  Only  seventeen!  How 
long  have  you  loved  this  man,  my  dear?"  compas- 
sionately inquired  the  lady. 

"How  long?  As  long  as  I  have  lived,  I  think.  I 
do  not  remember  the  time  when  I  did  not  love  Tudor 
Hereward  as  I  love  my  Lord.  It  was  my  religion  to 
love  him.  I  was  brought  up  to  worship  God,  and  to 
adore  Tudor  Hereward.  Under  the  Almighty,  he  was 
my  lord,  my  law-giver.  This  love  was  my  life,"  mur- 
mured Lilith,  in  a  low,  thrilling,  pathetic  voice. 

"Who  trained  you  to  this  idolatry?" 

"His  father — my  foster-father." 

Again  silence  fell  between  the  two. 

At  length  the  baroness  inquired: 

"My  dear,  will  you  tell  me  how  you  came  to  be 
the  foster-daughter  of  the  late  Major  Hereward?  But 
do  not  do  so  if  you  would  rather  not." 

"I  have  no  objection,"  answered  Lilith. 

And  in  a  few  brief  words  she  told  the  story  of  her 
adoption  as  it  is  known  to  the  reader. 

"I  am  half  inclined  to  retract  all  that  I  have  said 
of  Tudor  Hereward.  It  may  be  that  revenge  did  not 
enter  into  his  scheme  of  marrying  a  child  whom  he 
did  not  love.  It  may  be  that  he  was  actuated  solely 
by  the  wish  to  please  his  father  and  to  pay  a  sacred 
debt,"  said  the  baroness. 

"Yes,  to  pay  a  sacred  debt.  That  is  what  they 
called  it — a  sacred  debt.  Ah!  would  to  Heaven  I 
had  died  with  my  mother  rather  than  lived  to  be  the 
creditor  of  that  fatal  debt!  Heaven  knows  how  soon 
I  would  have  absolved  both  father  and  son  from  its 
responsibility  had  I  known  it  was  only  for  that  cause 
I  was  to  be  married,"  said  Lilith,  with  a  sigh  so 
heavy  that  it  moved  the  pity  of  the  lady,  who  took 
the  girl's  hand  and  held  it  kindly  as  she  said: 


LILITH  157 

"I  do  suppose  that  a  marriage  contracted  under 
such  circumstances  must,  sooner  or  later,  end  just 
as  yours  has.  And,  my  poor  child,  since  it  was 
doomed  to  end  so,  it  is  better  that  it  should  sooner 
than  later.  Yet — I  cannot  imagine  that  you  could* 
have  given  any  provocation  for  an  act  so  extreme 
as  his  repudiation  of  you;  and  I  feel  deeply  inter- 
ested to  know  just  what  precipitated  the  event." 

"Dear  madame,  I  can  only  tell  you  that  it  was  a  mis- 
apprehension on  his  part,  which,  could  he  have  loved 
and  trusted  me,  need  not  have  ended  in  the  fatal 
quarrel  that  has  separated  us  forever.  You  under- 
stand now.  I  need  not  go  into  the  painful  details  of 
that  scene." 

"No,  you  need  not.  And  so  you  left  your  home 
secretly?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  secretly.  For  when  at  last  he  told  me 
that  he  had  never  loved  me;  that  he  had  only  married 
me  to  please  his  father;  that  he  should  go  away  from 
his  home  and  never  return  while  I — desecrated — the 
house  with  my  presence,  then  I  answered  that  I  must 
not  be  the  means  of  driving  him  from  his  ancestral 
home;  that  I  must  depart" 

"Heavens!    What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

"With  a  look  full  of  scorn  and  wrath,  he  bade  me 
quit  his  sight.  I  left  the  room,  went  to  my  chamber 
and  prepared  for  my  journey.  I  went  away  that  night, 
leaving  a  farewell  letter  on  my  dressing-bureau." 

"And  no  one  saw  you  go?" 

"No  one.  It  was  late  on  a  winter  night,  and  I  went 
forth  alone." 

"Poor  child!  And  this  accounts  for  the  story  of 
your  mysterious  disappearance  and  supposed  death." 

"Yes,  I  presume  so.  They  must  have  believed  that 
I  came  to  my  death  after  leaving  the  house." 

"And  he  believes  that  you  are  dead!  And  he  suf- 
fers from  remorse,  if  not  from  grief.  Well,  we  shall 


158  LILITH 

find  him  on  the  other  side.  Shall  we  make  your  exist- 
ence known  to  him?" 

"I  do  not  know,  madame.  I  must  think  and  pray 
over  that  question.  But  even  if  he  be  assured  that 
I  do  still  live,  he  must  not  be  annoyed  by  the  sight 
of  my  face.  Oh!  madame,  though  I  long  with  all  my 
soul  to  see  him  again,  to  hear  his  voice  once  more, 
yet,  yet,  I  shrink  from  the  ordeal  as  from  fire!"  said 
Lilith. 

"I  can  well  believe  that.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  tell 
you  my  news  before  we  sailed.  If  I  had  done  so, 
you  would  not  perhaps  have  come  with  me." 

"No,"  said  Lilith. 

Silence  fell  between  the  two  women,  and  lasted 
until  the  bell  rang  for  luncheon,  for  which  neither 
of  them  felt  the  least  desire. 

It  was  an  excuse  for  moving,  however — something 
to  do — and  Madame  Von  Bruyin  arose  and  offered 
her  arm  to  her  slighter  companion  and  the  two  went 
down  to  the  saloon  together.  It  was  about  two 
o'clock.  They  were  well  out  at  sea  now  and  the  waves 
were  rather  high;  the  ship  was  rolling  uncomfortably 
for  those  who  had  not  found  their  sea  legs  and  their 
sea  stomachs. 

Neither  Madame  Von  Bruyin  nor  Lilith  as  yet  suf- 
fered from  the  motion. 

After  lunch,  however,  each  retired  alone  to  her 
state-room. 

The  baroness  threw  herself  into  her  berth  and  gave 
way  to  the  tide  of  shame,  grief  and  indignation  which 
it  had  required  all  her  pride,  conscience  and  self-con- 
trol to  restrain  while  she  was  in  the  presence  of  Tudor 
Hereward's  young  wife. 

She  had  been  strangely  attracted  to  Lilith  from 
the  first  meeting  with  her,  and  she  had  grown  to  love 
the  girl  with  the  fond,  protecting  love  of  an  elder 
sister.  She  had  given  Lilith  her  confidence,  revealed 


LILITH  159 

her  inmost  heart,  told  her  love-story — even  her  love 
for  Tudor  Hereward  to  Tudor  Hereward's  unknown 
wife!  What  a  mortification  in  the  thought  that  she 
had  done  so !  Yet,  there  was  a  selfish  comfort,  which 
she  blamed  herself  for  taking,  in  the  reflection  that 
it  was  to  the  unloved  and  discarded  wife  that  she  had 
told  this  story. 

She  had  within  the  past  few  days  had  her  heart's 
deepest  affections  raised  from  despair  to  something 
near  absolute  certainty.  "Her  hopes  soared  up  like 
fire!"  And  in  the  exaltation  of  her  spirits  she  had 
called  on  Lilith  to  share  her  joy  and  to  congratulate 
her — only  to  have  them  all  extinguished  by  the 
damper  of  the  girl's  communication — "Tudor  Here- 
ward's  wife  still  lives  ...  I  am  Tudor  Here- 
ward's  most  unhappy  wife!" 

How  all  her  soul  had  risen  up  in  defiance  and  con- 
tradiction of  that  statement  until  its  truth  was 
pressed  in  upon  her  consciousness.  And  then,  all  her 
sense  of  justice,  all  her  powers  of  self-command  were 
required  to  pass  calmly  through  the  ordeal  of  the 
interview  that  ensued.  She  had  passed  through  it 
successfully.  She  had  so  mastered  her  pain  and  re- 
pressed her  heart  that  she  now  felt  sure  Hereward's 
young  wife  regarded  Leda  Von  Bruyin's  love  for  him 
as  the  mere  passing  fancy  of  a  wealthy  woman  of  the 
world,  soon  to  be  forgotten  in  the  change  of  travel 
or  the  whirl  of  society.  She  felt  no  jealousy  of  this 
despised  and  discarded  wife,  as  she  might  have  felt 
had  Lilith  been  the  beloved,  honored  and  cherished 
companion  of  her  husband;  on  the  contrary,  she  felt 
pity,  affection  and  sympathy  for  the  poor,  lonely  and 
dependent  child. 

But  her  spirit  blazed  out  in  fierce  anger  of  Tudor 
Hereward's  whole  course  of  conduct  toward  them 
both,  so  that  she  was  very  unjust  to  him. 

"He  has  ruined  two  lives  by  his  arrogant  reckless- 


160  LILITH 

ness  and  precipitation.  He  loved  me;  he  never  loved 
that  poor  girl.  He  loved  me,  and  he  ought  to  have 
waited,  in  hope  and  faith,  as  long  as  I  continued  un- 
married. He  ought  not  to  have  rushed  into  matri- 
mony with  that  young  creature  whom  he  never  loved, 
and  so  made  her  miserable  and  put  an  insurmount- 
able obstacle  between  himself  and  me!  Or — having 
married  her,  he  should  have  cherished  her  and  not 
discarded  her. 

"No,  Tudor  Hereward,"  she  continued  to  herself, 
"you  are  no  longer  the  chevalier  sans  peur  et  sans 
reproche,  that  I  once  believed  you!  And — if  I  suffer 
now,  it  is  not  that  I  love  you  still,  but  that  my  love 
is  dying  hard — very,  very  hard!" 

"But  I  will  take  a  queenly  revenge  upon  you,  my 
master!  A  most  noble  and  royal  revenge.  This  child- 
wife  whom  you  have  discarded  shall  be  to  me  as  the 
dearest  little  sister.  She  is  already  beautiful,  ele- 
'gant  and  graceful  by  nature.  She  is  cultivated,  re- 
fined and  accomplished  by  education;  all  she  needs 
is  intercourse  with  the  highest  European  circles  to 
give  her  the  tone  and  manner  of  the  most  cultured 
society.  And  that  she  shall  have.  I  will  introduce 
her,  not  as  my  salaried  companion — though  she  shall 
have  her  salary  and  much  more  than  her  salary — 
but  as  my  own  adopted  sister.  And  when  you  see  her 
again,  Tudor  Hereward,  you  will  not  be  likely  to  de- 
spise her. 

"And  oh!"  she  passionately  broke  forth,  "that  I  had 
the  power  to  annihilate  the  very  fragments  of  that 
broken  marriage  tie  and  the  very  memory  of  it,  in 
her  mind,  and  give  her,  all  perfect  as  I  shall  make  her, 
into  the  hands  of  some  nobler  husband!  But  no!  that 
would  not  be  a  worthy  revenge. 

"To  give  her  back,  a  pearl  above  price,  to  you,  per- 
haps! Can  I  do  that?  Can  I  conquer  myself  so  en- 
tirely? That  would  be  a  magnanimous  revenge." 


LILITH  161 

So  ran  the  thoughts  of  the  petted  beauty,  rioting 
through  a  mind  governed  rather  by  feeling  than  by 
reason,  yet  with  much  more  of  good  than  evil  in  it. 

Meanwhile,  Lilith,  lying  on  the  narrow  sofa  in  her 
state-room,  gave  way  to  one  hearty  fit  of  crying,  and 
then  wiped  her  eyes,  and  began  to  try  to  understand 
her  position  and  her  duty. 

She  was  not  jealous  of  the  handsome  baroness, 
either.  She  remembered  all  her  husband  had  told 
her  of  his  first  fancy,  of  how  harshly  he  had  come  to 
judge  her,  and  she  fully  believed  that  Madame  Von 
Bruyin  deceived  herself  in  imagining  that  Tudor 
Hereward  still  continued  to  love  her,  or  to  entertain 
other  feelings  than  disapprobation  and  dislike 
towards  her. 

Lilith  now  knew,  from  her  intimate  relations  with 
the  baroness,  that  Mr.  Hereward  had  greatly  mis- 
judged her;  that  she  was  not,  and  never  had  been, 
the  heartless  coquette  he  had  termed  her;  but  that, 
in  spite  of  her  training,  she  was  a  warm-hearted,  gen- 
erous and  conscientious  woman. 

But  the  question  now  before  Lilith  was — whether 
she  should  continue  with  the  baroness,  and  run  the 
risk  of  meeting  Hereward  in  the  court  circle  of  the 
city  to  which  they  were  going,  or  whether  she  should, 
on  reaching  Havre,  take  the  first  homeward-bound 
steamer  and  return  to  New  York  and  to  the  safe  pro- 
tection of  Aunt  Sophie's  humble  roof. 

And  though  Lilith  thought  over  this  question  and 
prayed  over  it,  yet  she  had  come  to  no  decision  when 
there  came  a  rap,  followed  by  the  entrance  of  Lisette, 
the  lady's  maid,  who  said: 

"Madame  has  sent  me  to  say  that  it  is  time  for 
dinner,  and  to  see  if  I  can  assist  you,  madame." 

"Thank  you,  no.  I  will  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes,'7 
replied  Lilith,  rising  from  her  sofa,  and  beginning  to 
smooth  down  her  dress  and  arrange  her  hair. 


162  LILITH 

She  soon  completed  her  very  simple  toilet  and  went 
out  into  the  cabin,  where  she  found  the  baroness  wait- 
ing for  her. 

The  lady  looked  pale  and  grave,  but  otherwise  as 
usual.  No  one  could  have  judged  from  her  manner 
the  dread  ordeal  through  which  she  was  passing. 

She  looked  searchingly  into  Lilith's  face,  and  saw 
there  the  traces  of  emotion  but  recently  overcome. 
She  smiled  softly,  as  she  drew  the  girl's  arm  witliin 
her  own  and  whispered: 

"We  do  not  either  of  us  look  quite  well,  dear;  but 
n'importe — the  fault  will  be  laid  upon  the  sea!  On 
land,  all  our  feminine  troubles,  for  which  we  do  not 
wish  to  account,  we  explain  by  a  headache.  At  sea, 
all  grievances  of  soul  or  body  may  be  put  down  to 
sea-sickness.  Is  a  woman  pale  from  vexation  or  dis- 
appointment? She  is  only  sea-sick.  Is  a  man  unable 
to  leave  his  berth  in  the  morning,  from  having  had 
too  much  champagne  over  night?  He  is  very  sea- 
sick, poor  wretch!  Come!  let  us  go  into  the  saloon." 

There  were  very  few  people  at  the  tables,  and  so 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  and  her  companion  had  a  large 
share  of  attention  from  the  stewards.  Yet  they  could 
receive  but  little  benefit  from  the  sumptuous  fare  laid 
before  them,  and  they  soon  left  the  table  for  the  upper 
deck,  where  they  sat  late  into  the  June  night,  watch- 
ing the  clear,  star-lit  heavens  above  and  the  bound- 
less expanse  of  ocean  below. 

At  eleven  they  retired  to  their  berths. 

And  so  ended  the  first  day  at  sea. 


LILITH  163 

CHAPTER  XIV 

LILITH'S  METAMORPHOSIS 

THE  run  of  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  was  an  almost  ideal 
voyage.  After  the  first  few  hours,  winds  and  waves 
subsided. 

On  Sunday  morning  the  voyagers  arose  to  find  them- 
selves borne  steadily  onward  over  a  summer  sea, 
under  a  sunny  sky,  freshened  by  a  gentle  breeze. 

As  this  day  was,  so  were  all  the  succeeding  days 
of  the  voyage. 

Only  twice  it  rained,  and  then  only  in  the  night, 
so  that  all  the  mornings  were  clear  and  fair. 

Lilith  was  young,  fresh  and  sensitive  and  so,  not- 
withstanding all  her  past  griefs,  disappointments  and 
humiliations,  she  enjoyed  the  voyage. 

The  baroness  was  very  kind  to  her  young  com- 
panion, and  very  delicate  in  making  the  gradual 
change  she  had  determined  upon  in  her  case.  She 
never  said  to  the  young  creature  in  so  many  words: 
"From  this  time  you  are  my  little  sister;"  but  she 
treated  her  with  the  free  and  fond  affection  due  to 
such  a  relationship.  She  never  asked  Lilith  to  per- 
form the  slightest  service  for  her;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
very  often  offered  attentions  to  the  girl — wrapping 
her  shawl  around  her  when  they  were  going  up  on 
deck,  and  showing  her  all  the  solicitous  tenderness 
of  an  affectionate  relative. 

Lilith  was  very  grateful  for  all  this  kindness;  nor 
did  its  excess  embarrass  her  in  the  least  degree.  She 
had  been  used  to  the  greatest  care  and  the  tenderest 
love  all  her  young  days  until  the  brief  episode  of  her 
married  life;  and  she  had  no  experience  to  teach  her 
that  the  baroness'  treatment  of  her  was  not  the  treat- 
ment usually  bestowed  by  a  lady  upon  her  salaried 


164  LILITH 

companion.  So  she  accepted  all  the  favors  and  all 
the  attentions  of  the  great  lady  with  gratitude  and 
enjoyment. 

Their  fellow-voyagers  had  not  the  least  idea  that 
these  two  young  ladies  stood  in  the  relations  of  em- 
ployer and  employed  towards  each  other,  but  believed 
them  to  be  very  young  widowed  sisters  or  dear  friends. 

There  happened  to  be  on  board  not  one  of  Madame 
Von  Bruyin's  own  circle  who  was  acquainted  with 
her  family  history  and  knew  that  she  had  no  sisters. 

The  baroness  happened  to  come  on  deck  one  morn- 
ing with  Lilith. 

She  sat  down  near  a  lady,  who,  after  exchanging 
salutations  with  the  new-comer,  said,  politely: 

"I  hope,  inadame,  that  your  dear  sister  is  not  in- 
disposed this  morning,  this  fine,  fine  morning,  that 
she  is  not  on  deck." 

"Thank  you,  she  is  quite  well,  only  a  trifle  late  in 
rising;  but  Mrs.  Wyvil  is  not  my  sister  except  in  affec- 
tion; though  indeed  there  are  few  sisters  so  strongly 
attached  to  each  other  as  we  are.  Circumstances 
have  brought  this  friendly  union  about.  We  are  both 
orphans,  without  sister  or  brother;  both  widows  with- 
out children;  we  have,  in  fact,  no  family  ties  what- 
ever. We  are  fast  friends  who  have  no  one  but  each 
other,"  Madame  Von  Bruyin  explained,  speaking  pur- 
posely so  to  one  whom  she  knew  to  be  one  of  the 
busiest  gossips  among  all  the  ladies  of  the  first  cabin. 

After  this  there  was  much  talk  about  the  "roman- 
tic friendship"  existing  between  the  two  beautiful 
young  widows.  This  talk  found  its  way  from  the 
ladies'  cabin  to  the  gentlemen's  saloon,  where  the 
status  of  the  two  lovely  widows  wTas  often  canvassed. 
Both  were  acknowledged  to  be  "beautiful  exceed- 
ingly," and  yet  so  different  in  style  that  there  could 
be  no  comparison  between  them — one  a  tall  and 
stately  blonde,  the  other  a  petite  and  graceful 


LILITH  165 

brunette;  so  that  they  were  relatively  called  Juno 
and  Psyche.  Both  were  supposed  to  be  enormously 
rich — great  chances  for  "elegant  but  impecunious" 
fortune-hunters.  And  more  than  one  adventurer  who 
could  not  manage  to  approach  the  hedged-in  royalty 
on  ship-board,  determined  to  keep  track  of  the  beau- 
ties in  hopes  of  golden  opportunities  after  they  should 
have  landed  on  the  other  side. 

Meanwhile  Madame  Von  Bruyin  and  Lilith,  uncon- 
scious of  the  buzz  of  gossip,  criticism  and  specula- 
tion going  on  around  them  in  cabin  and  saloon,  kept 
on  the  even  tenor  of  their  way,  until  one  fine  morn- 
ing near  the  middle  of  June  they  awoke  to  find  them- 
selves at  Havre.  Their  ship  had  arrived  in  the  night 
while  they  slept. 

Lilith  started  up  to  look  through  the  port-hole  of 
her  state-room,  but  she  could  see  nothing  but  the  hulk 
of  another  great  steamer  that  lay  close  alongside. 

She  dressed  herself  with  eager,  childish  haste  to 
go  upon  deck  and  look  upon  the  shores  of  the  old 
world,  so  new  to  her,  and  which  she  had  so  longed 
to  see. 

Such  first  sights  are  often  a  surprise  and  a  disap- 
pointment to  the  young  traveler.  They  expect  to  see 
something  very  new  and  very  strange,  instead  of  which 
they  see  what  seem  to  be  very  familiar  objects — all 
sea-port  towns  are  at  first  view  so  very  much  alike 
in  their  general  appearance. 

When  Lilith  hurriedly  dressed  herself,  and  with- 
out waiting  for  Madame  Von  Bruyin,  hastened  up  on 
deck,  and  Jooked  around  her,  she  saw  what,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  she  must  have  seen  a  hundred  times 
before — a  harbor  with  a  forest  of  shipping,  docks 
crowded  with  men,  women  and  children,  horses,  mules, 
carts  and  vans,  and  laden  with  bales,  boxes,  barrels 
and  bundles  of  merchandise;  dingy  warehouses  ris- 
ing to  the  sky,  with  dusty  windows  and  many  ropes 


166  LILITH 

and  pulleys  reaching  from  roof  to  basement;  beyond 
these  the  crowded  streets  of  the  city. 

"Why,  but  for  that  old  tower  in  the  distance,  and 
those  old  churches,  this  might  be  New  York  or  Bal- 
timore," said  Lilith,  unconscious  of  having  spoken 
out. 

"Yes,  my  dear,  at  a  very  casual  and  superficial 
glance;  but  wait  until  we  get  into  the  town.  Then 
I  will  show  you  some  antiquities  of  the  time  of  Louis 
XL,  when  Havre  was  but  a  little  fishing-hamlet  and 
never  dreamed  of  becoming  the  great  sea-port  that 
it  now  is,"  said  the  baroness,  who  had  come  quietly 
up  to  the  side  of  her  young  friend. 

"Ah!  but  it  is  not  beautiful  to  look  upon  from 
this  point,"  said  Lilith. 

"What  sea-port  town  is?  But  it  is  interesting  away 
from  the  docks — though  I  can  well  believe  that  the 
ships,  docks  and  warehouses  are  decidedly  the  most 
interesting  portion  of  the  town  to  those  busy  business 
men  whom  we  see  in  the  crowd  there.  But,  as  I  said, 
wait  until  we  land  and  see  the  old  city.  And  remem- 
ber that  beyond  the  city  spread 

'Thy  corn-fields  green  and  sunny  vines, 
Oh,  pleasant  land  of  France.' 

I  always  enjoy  the  railway  ride  from  Havre  to 
Paris.  We  will  take  that  ride  to-morrow,  little  beauty. 
To-day  we  will  do  Havre." 

"But,  madame,  I  was  thinking,  as  I  have  before 
hinted  to  you,  of  returning  to  New  York  by  the  first 
homeward  bound  steamer,"  said  Lilith,  deprecatingly. 

The  baroness  turned  suddenly  around  and  stared 
at  her  little  friend  for  a  moment,  and  then  exclaimed : 

"You  must  never  think  of  doing  such  a  thing!  Why 
have  you  ever  thought  of  it?" 

"Because  you  are  going  in  the  course  of  your  travels 


LILITH  167 

to  the  very  city  and  court  where  you  will  be  sure  to 
meet — Mr.  Hereward,"  said  Lilith,  hesitating  over  the 
name.  "And  I  should  not  like  to  seem  to  be  follow- 
ing him,  after  all  that  has  passed,"  she  added. 

"Nonsense,  my  dear!  We  may  make  the  tour  of 
the  continent  without  going  to  that  city.  Or  even  if 
we  go  there,  we  may  see  everything  worth  seeing 
without  meeting  that  man." 

"But " 

"I  will  hear  no  'but,'  my  dear.  You  must  not 
leave  me.  You  engaged  to  stay  with  me  for  twelve 
months,  unless  our  engagement  should  be  annulled 
by  mutual  consent.  Now,  I  do  not  consent  to  any 
such  thing,  my  dear;  and  you,  I  know,  are  too  hon- 
est and  honorable  to  break  a  contract.  There  has 
been  quite  enough  of  that  sort  of  thing  in  our  lives, 
at  least  in  yours,  without  a  new  example.  But  there! 
we  will  not  discuss  this  matter  further  until  we  get 
to  our  hotel.  See!  the  plank  has  been  laid  and  the 
people  are  beginning  to  go  on  shore.  Ah!  Monsieur 
Le  Grange,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  send  Felix  on 
shore  to  engage  two  carriages?  I  shall  then  ask  you 
to  attend  Mrs.  Wyvil  and  myself  to  the  Hotel  de 
FEurope,  where  you  will  please  engage  rooms  for  us," 
said  the  baroness,  turning  to  her  private  secretary, 
who  had  just  stepped  up. 

The  polite  old  gentleman  bowed  and  bowed  and 
went  away  to  perform  his  commission. 

"We  will  go  down  and  put  on  our  wraps,  my  dear. 
You  need  not  take  the  trouble  to  pack  or  to  remove 
anything.  I  will  leave  Lisette  in  charge  of  our  rooms 
to  do  all  that.  Felix  can  see  our  trunks  through  the 
Custom  House,  and  then  come  on  with  Lisette  and 
all  the  other  trumpery  to  the  hotel." 

Lilith  followed  her  friend's  advice  and  soon  joined 
her  in  the  cabin,  dressed  for  landing. 

They  went  up  on  deck,  and  while  they  stood  wait- 


168  LILITH 

ing  for  the  return  of  Monsieur  Le  Grange  they  ex- 
changed good-byes  with  several  fellow- voyagers  who 
were  leaving  the  ship  for  various  points. 

At  length  Monsieur  Le  Grange  came  up,  bowing. 

"I  have  procured  a  very  comfortable  carriage  which 
awaits  madarne,  and  I  have  sent  Felix  on  to  the  Hotel 
de  1'Europe  to  secure  a  suite  of  rooms  that  they  may 
be  ready  for  madame,  that  she  may  not  be  kept  wait- 
ing." 

"Thank  you,  monsieur;  you  have  been  very  prompt," 
said  the  baroness,  graciously. 

"Will  madame  now  proceed  to  the  carriage?"  for- 
mally inquired  the  precise  old  gentleman. 

"If  you  please,  monsieur.  And  will  you  do  me  the 
favor  to  give  your  arm  to  Mrs.  Wyvil?"  inquired  the 
baroness,  according  to  her  usual  custom,  "in  honor 
preferring"  lier  protegee,  to  herself. 

"I  wrill  with  pleasure  do  myself  that  honor, 
madame,"  said  the  courtly  old  gentleman,  first  with 
a  deep  bow  to  his  patroness  and  then  with  another 
to  her  protegee,  as  he  offered  the  latter  his  arm. 

"I  have  left  everything  here  in  charge  of  Felix  and 
Lisette,  monsieur.  They  will  follow  in  the  second 
carriage,  as  soon  as  our  luggage  can  be  got  through, 
to  that  you  need  take  no  trouble  at  all,"  the  baroness 
explained,  as  they  left  the  steamer. 

The  old  secretary  then  put  both  ladies  into  the  car- 
riage, seated  himself  beside  them,  and  gave  the  order: 

"To  the  Hotel   de   PEurope." 

A  few  moments'  drive  through  the  narrow  streets 
brought  them  up  to  the  fine  hotel. 

Their  rooms  were  ready,  so  that  there  was  but 
little  delay  before  they  found  themselves  in  posses- 
sion of  them — handsome  rooms  they  were,  on  the 
second  floor,  fronting  the  street,  very  elegantly  fur- 
nished— "chiefly  with  gilded  mirrors,"  as  the  baroness 
laughingly  observed.  But  there  were  also  luxurious 


LILITH  169 

lounges  and  reclining  chairs,  downy  cushions  and  has- 
socks, and  soft  rugs,  graceful  draperies  before  doors 
as  well  as  before  windows,  and,  in  fact,  all  the  refine- 
ments of  modern  upholstery,  better  understood  by  the 
French  than  by  any  other  people. 

Monsieur  Le  Grange  had  ordered  the  breakfast, 
which  was  soon  served  in  madame's  small  salon. 

The  two  ladies  had  just  time  to  lay  off  their  bon- 
nets and  wraps,  before  it  was  placed  on  the  table, 
served  in  silver  and  Sevres  china  by  the  most  ob- 
sequious of  gargons.  The  dainty  new  dishes,  the  deli- 
cate rolls,  the  exquisite  coffee,  and  the  rare  light  wines 
of  the  French  breakfast,  were  all  novelties  in  the  ex- 
perience of  Lilith,  and  greatly  enjoyed  by  her. 

When  the  breakfast  was  over,  the  two  ladies  put 
on  their  bonnets,  and  took  the  carriage  that  had  been 
engaged  by  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  and,  with  him  for 
their  cicerone,  drove  around  the  city  to  whatever  they 
considered  worth  looking  at. 

They  visited  the  old  churches  of  Notre  Dame  and 
St.  Francis,  and  the  ancient  tower  of  Franart.  They 
drove  out  to  the  picturesque  suburbs  of  Ingouville 
and  Graville  1'Heure,  lunched  at  the  little  cafe  in  the 
last  mentioned  place,  and  finally  returned  to  their 
hotel  in  time  for  late  dinner. 

That  evening,  after  Monsieur  Le  Grange  had  bidden 
them  good-night,  Madame  Von  Bruyin  and  Lilith  had 
a  final  talk  on  the  question  of  her — Lilith — returning 
to  New  York  or  traveling  over  Europe  with  the 
baroness. 

The  prospect  of  varied  travel  in  company  with  her 
charming  friend  had  great  attractions  for  Lilith,  cer- 
tainly, so  that  when  the  baroness  put  it  to  her  heart 
and  conscience  not  to  break  the  compact  she  had  made 
with  so  fond  a  friend,  Lilith  not  only  yielded  the  point 
and  consented  to  remain  with  the  baroness,  but  she 
did  so  with  evident  pleasure. 


170  LILITH 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  kissed  her  ardently  to  seal 
the  bargain,  and  they  retired  to  bed  in  their  adjoin- 
ing alcoves. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  whole  party  commenced 
their  continental  tour  by  taking  the  railway  train  to 
Paris. 


CHAPTER  XV 

WORLD-WEARY 

The  memory  of  things  precious  keepeth  warm 

The  heart  that  once  did  hold  them.    They  are  poor 

That  have  lost  nothing;  they  are  poorer  far 

Who,  losing,  have  forgotten;  they  most  poor 

Of  all  who  lose  and  wish  they  might  forget. 

For  life  is  one,  and  in  its  warp  and  woof 

There  runs  a  thread  of  gold  that  glitters  fair, 

And  sometimes  in  the  pattern  shows  most  sweet 

Where  there  are  sombre  colors.     This  thread  of  gold 

We  would  not  have  it  tarnish;  let  us  turn 

Oft  and  look  back  upon  the  wondrous  web, 

And  when  it  shineth  sometimes  we  shall  know 

That  memory  is  possession.  Jean  Ingelow. 

THE  Baroness  Von  Bruyin  and  her  suite  reached 
Paris  about  the  middle  of  June. 

They  went  first  to  the  Splendide  Hotel,  Place  de 
1'Opera,  at  which  Monsieur  Le  Grange  had  secured, 
by  telegraph,  a  handsome  suite  of  apartments. 

But  they  remained  there  only  for  a  few  days,  until 
a  suitable  house  was  procured  on  the  Champs  Ely- 
sees  to  wich  they  immediately  removed. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  was  supposed,  on  account  of 
her  recent  widowhood,  not  to  go  into  the  gay  world; 
yet,  somehow  or  other,  as  soon  as  she  was  settled  in 


LILITH  171 

her  magnificent  "hotel,"  she  managed  to  see  much! 
of  society,  or  what  was  left  of  society  in  the  French 
capital;  for  at  this  season  the  gay  birds  of  passage 
in  the  fashionable  world  were  already  pluming  their 
wings  for  flight  to  sea-side  or  mountain  range  for  the 
summer.  Yet  enough  still  remained  to  make  life  gay 
in  the  gayest  city  of  Christendom. 

And  though  Madame  Von  Bruyin  went  to  no  balls 
or  large  public  receptions,  yet  she  saw  a  great  deal 
of  company  both  at  home  and  abroad.  And  Lilith 
was  always  by  her  side,  not  as  her  salaried  compan- 
ion, but  as  her  friend  and  equal. 

The  court  had  not  left  Paris,  and  it  was  through 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  that  Lilith  obtained  her  first 
entree  into  the  "charmed"  circle  of  Tuileries.  And 
no  less  from  her  freshness,  her  piquancy  and  sim- 
plicity than  from  her  rare  beauty,  la  belle  Virgin- 
ienne  became  the  fashion,  just  when  the  season  was 
wearing  to  its  close  and  wanted  a  new  sensation. 

Somehow  also  the  impression  had  got  abroad  that 
Madame  Wyvil  was  a  very  wealthy  woman — the 
daughter  of  some  New  York  merchant  prince  and  the 
widow  of  some  California  mine  king. 

Who  was  responsible  for  starting  the  story  is  not 
certainly  known;  but  it  is  undeniable  that  Madame 
Von  Bruyin  chuckled  a  great  deal  over  the  hallucina- 
tion, when  she  saw  Lilith  sought,  followed,  flattered 
and  fawned  upon  by  impoverished  nobles  and  im- 
pecunious princes. 

Lilith  knew  nothing  of  the  romances  in  circulation 
concerning  her  vast  riches.  The  adulation  she  re- 
ceived both  pleased  and  pained  her.  No  beautiful 
girl  of  seventeen  could  be  quite  insensible  or  indif- 
ferent to  the  homage  of  the  world;  homage  that  she 
innocently  supposed  was  paid  to  herself,  rather  than 
to  her  imaginary  wealth;  but  when  she  remembered 
her  position,  she  felt  that  she  would  gladly  give  all, 


172  LILITH 

all  this  worship  for  one  kind  word,  or  glance,  from 
her  alienated  husband — 

"Coldly  she  turns  from  their  praise  and  weeps, 
For  her  heart  'at  his  feet'  is  lying." 

She  was  often  glad  to  get  away  from  those  court 
circles — though  they  were  never  gay  scenes — to  es- 
cape from  everybody,  even  from  her  kindest  friend, 
Madame  Von  Bruyin — lock  herself  up  in  her  room 
at  night,  and  there  in  solitude  and  darkness  forget 
or  ignore  the  cruel  sentence  that  had  banished  her 
from  her  beloved  husband  and  her  dear  home;  bridge 
over  the  painful  scenes  that  had  marred  the  last 
weeks  of  their  wedded  life  and  go  back  and  live  over 
again  in  memory  and  imagination  the  brief,  bright 
days  of  their  harmony  and  happiness,  and  recall  the 
few  precious  words  of  affection  or  approbation  Tudor 
Hereward  had  ever  addressed  to  her. 

How  fondly,  how  vividly — lying  with  her  eyes  closed 
and  her  fingers  laid  upon  her  eyelids  as  if  the  better 
to  shut  out  the  real  world  and  the  present  time — 
how  fondly  and  how  vividly  she  recalled  that  day 
when  she  sat  all  day  long  over  the  writing-table  in 
their  room  at  the  hotel,  so  busy  at  work  for  him, 
so  happy,  ah!  so  happy  to  be  of  use  to  him,  answer- 
ing piles  of  letters  that  he  had  marked  for  her,  copy- 
ing the  crabbed  manuscript  for  his  speech,  looking 
out  authorities  for  his  reference. 

And  when  evening  came  and  he  returned  from  the 
Capitol,  and  sank  wearily  into  his  easy-chair  at  the 
table  and  slowly  examined  her  work,  and  finally  said : 

"You  have  performed  your  task  only  too  well. 
.  .  .  Your  day's  work  has  saved  me  from  a  night's 
work,  my  little  lady  love."  And  he  kissed  her. 

It  was  a  precious  memory. 

How  happy  she  was  that  day!  How  very,  very 
happy! 


LILITH  173 

Again  and  again,  through  the  power  of  memory 
and  imagination,  in  the  silence  and  solitude  of  night, 
she  recalled  and  lived  over  that  day — and  one  or  two 
other  days  embalmed  in  her  mind. 

All  these  few  happy  days  belonged  to  the  month 
of  February — the  most  sunshiny  month  of  her  year, 
midwinter  though  it  might  have  been  to  everybody 
else. 

During  all  the  remainder  of  the  season  in  Paris  it 
required  all  Lilith's  tact  to  avoid  receiving  a  direct 
proposal  of  marriage  from  one  or  another  of  her  for- 
tune-hunting adorers. 

At  length  she  almost  offended  Madame  Von  Bruyin 
by  declining  to  go  into  company  at  all. 

"They  take  me  for  'a  widow  indeed,'  madame,  and 
it  becomes  very  embarrassing,"  she  pleaded. 

"Well,  but,  petite,  we  cannot  explain;  so  what  is  to 
be  done?"  inquired  the  baroness,  laughing  at  the  ab- 
surdity of  Lilith's  dilemma. 

"I  do  not  know,  unless  I  avoid  society.  I  might 
stay  home  when  you  go  out,  and  keep  my  room  when 
you  have  company  here,"  replied  the  girl. 

"But  I  cannot  consent  to  any  such  isolation  on 
your  part.  It  would  not  be  good  for  your  health  of 
mind  or  body.  Come,  my  dear,  cheer  up!  Endure 
the  homage  of  the  world  for  a  few  days  longer — only 
for  a  few  days,  petite,  and  then  it  will  be  over.  Paris 
will  be  empty,  and  we  ourselves  will  be  inhaling  the 
mountain  air  of  Switzerland,"  laughed  the  lady. 

And  Lilith,  having  no  alternative,  endured  the  tor- 
tures of  her  false  position  until  the  fashionable  world 
had  fled  from  town. 

The  baroness  and  her  companion  lingered  a  little 
behind  the  others,  in  order  that  Madame  Von  Bruyin 
might  show  Lilith  all  those  places  of  interest  which 
a  newcomer  must  see,  but  which  had  hitherto  been 
neglected  for  other  and  more  social  pastimes. 


174  LILITH 

It  was,  then,  near  the  end  of  July  when  they  left 
Paris  for  Switzerland. 

They  spent  the  months  of  August,  September  and 
October  in  traveling  over  the  north  of  Europe,  halt- 
ing at  no  point  for  more  than  three  or  four  days. 

In  November  they  went  to  Rome,  and  sojourned 
in  the  "Eternal  City"  until  the  first  of  January,  when 
they  returned  to  Paris,  where  the  Baroness  Von 
Bruyin,  having  laid  aside  her  first  mourning,  plunged 
into  all  the  gayeties  of  the  capital,  taking  her  young 
companion  with  her. 

Everywhere  they  were  very  much  admired.  They 
could  not  possibly  be  rivals,  even  when  constantly 
seen  together.  They  were  both  so  beautiful,  yet  their 
style  was  so  dissimilar,  so  well  contrasted,  that  they 
actually  enhanced  each  other's  attractions. 

Lilith  was  no  longer  in  danger  of  receiving  embar- 
rassing proposals  of  marriage.  The  same  mysterious 
agent  which  had  started  the  report  of  her  fabulous 
wealth  was  most  probably  responsible  for  another  re- 
port, to  the  effect  that  the  beautiful  young  widow 
was  about  to  bestow  her  hand  and  fortune  upon  an 
eminent  American  statesman,  to  whom  she  had  been 
for  many  months  engaged.  But  she  was  none  the 
less  admired  because  she  was  inaccessible. 

In  February,  however,  the  restless  baroness,  with 
all  her  party,  crossed  the  channel,  and  went  to  Lon- 
don, to  be  in  time  to  see  the  pageant  of  the  queen's 
opening  of  Parliament. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin,  through  her  friends,  obtained 
admission  for  herself  and  protegee  to  the  peeress'  gal- 
lery in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  from  that  vantage 
point  witnessed  the  imposing  ceremony. 

But  in  all  the  solemn  magnificence  of  the  scene 
Lilith  seemed  to  see  only  the  queen,  and  through  the 
queen  only  the  almost  peerless  woman,  wife  and 


LILITH  175 

mother,  and  as  Lilith  gazed  she  sank  into  a  dream  of 
Victoria's  life. 

Later  on  in  the  season  our  country-girl  from  West 
Virginia  saw  the  majesty  of  England  once  again. 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  the  first  drawing-room 
of  the  season  at  Buckingham  Palace,  when  Madame 
Von  Bruyin  and  her  protegee  were  presented  by  the 
wife  of  the  German  Ambassador. 

After  this  presentation,  the  baroness,  who  had 
taken  a  handsome  furnished  house  on  Westbourne 
Terrace,  and  whose  year  of  mourning  had  expired, 
issued  invitations  for  a  large  party,  which  she  wished 
to  make  the  most  brilliant  of  the  season. 

The  baroness  had  passed  two  seasons  in  London. 
The  first  as  a  debutante  with  her  father,  and  a  Ger- 
man princess  as  a  chaperone;  the  second  as  a  bride, 
with  her  newly  married  husband;  and  now  in  her  third 
season  she  entered  society  as  a  young,  handsome  and 
wealthy  widow,  with  a  very  extensive  acquaintance. 

She  issued  over  five  hundred  invitations  to  her  ball, 
and  these  included  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
persons  of  the  age,  celebrities  of  high  rank,  of  world- 
wide scientific,  literary,  diplomatic  or  military  renown, 
the  beauties  anJ  geniuses  of  the  hour,  and  so  forth. 

The  ball  was  to  be  a  great  success. 

Lilith  strongly  objected  to  being  present — pleaded 
earnestly  to  be  relieved  from  attending  it. 

"Dear  madame,  I  feel  as  if,  in  my  circumstances, 
I  ought  to  live  in  strict  retirement.  I  am  not  Mrs. 
YVyvil.  I  am  not  a  widow.  I  am  Tudor  Hereward's 
repudiated  wife.  When  I  find  myself  in  a  ball-room 
or  in  a  drawing-room,  surrounded  by  people  who  seem 
anxious  to  do  me  honor — I  feel — oh,  I  feel  just  as 
if  I  were  only  a  fraud,  a  humbug,  an  impostor,  an 
adventuress.  And,  oh!  I  feel  so  deeply  ashamed  of 
myself  and  my  false  position!  So  humiliated  and 
degraded!  I  feel  this  even  more  deeply  in  these 


176  LILITH 

English  drawing-rooms  than  I  did  in  the  Parisian 
salons.  Oh,  dear  madame,  pray  do  not  insist  on  my 
presence  at  your  ball!"  she  prayed. 

"Lilith,  you  are  the  most  morbid  creature  I  ever 
met  with  in  all  the  days  of  my  life.  You  would  like 
to  shut  yourself  up  in  a  convent,  I  suppose,  just 
because  that  hateful  man,  after  marrying  you  to  be 
revenged  on  me,  has  thrown  you  off  to  please  him- 
self!" exclaimed  Leda  Von  Bruyin. 

"Pray  do  not  speak  of  Mr.  Hereward  in  that  way," 
said  the  loyal  young  wife. 

"I  will  speak  of  him  as  he  deserves.  I  am  begin- 
ning to  hate  that  man.  Yes,  and  to  hate  myself  for 
ever  having  imagined  that  I  liked  him." 

"Oh,  Madame  Von  Bruyin!" 

"It  is  true.  The  more  I  see  of  the  world,  the  longer 
I  live,  the  more  experience  I  gain,  the  more  heartily 
I  dislike  that  man,  and  dislike  myself  for  ever  hav- 
ing fancied  that  I  liked  him,"  exclaimed  the  baroness. 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  feel  so,"  said  Lilith. 

"Sorry!  Sorry  that  I  have  ceased  to  be  in  love 
with  your  husband,  Lilith?  Well,  you  are  an  oddity!" 

"Oh,  no,  not  sorry  for  that!  Glad— thankful  for 
that!  But  very  sorry  that  you  cannot  feel  friendly 
towards  him!" 

"Bah!  what  a  baby  you  are!  He  himself  once 
quoted  this  line  to  me: 

'Friendship  sometimes  turns  to  love, 
But  love  to  friendship,  never!' 

And  it  does  not!  It  dies  out  in  indifference,  or  it 
turns  to  hate  and  scorn,  and  self-scorn  as  well!" 

"Ah,  madame "  commenced  Lilith. 

"  *Ah,  madame,'  "  mocked  the  baroness.  "Look 
here,  my  dear,  I  have  known,  and  I  thank  Heaven 
that  I  have  known  one  unselfish  man  who  loved  with- 


LILITH  177 

out  self-love!  And  he  was  Nicholas  Von  Bruyin. 
And  the  more  I  see  of  other  men,  the  more  I  love  and 
honor  him.  Mr.  Hereward  certainly  suffers  in  that 
comparison.  But  to  return  to  the  subject  of  the  ball, 
Lilith,  my  dear,  I  really  cannot  consent  to  your  absent- 
ing yourself." 

"But,  madame " 

"But,  nonsense!  If  you  are  in  a  false  position  it 
it  not  one  of  .your  choosing.  Your  husband  has 
forced  you  into  it.  If  you  are  called  Mrs.  Wyvil,  it 
is  because  your  husband  has  forbidden  you  to  bear 
his  name,  and  you  are  so  meek  as  to  obey  him.  And 
if  you  seem  to  be  a  widow,  it  is  because  he  has  made 
you  one  in  fate  if  not  in  law.  But  you  shall  not 
'wear  the  willow'  for  his  undeserving  sake!  You 
shall  enjoy  life  as  your  youth  and  beauty  entitle  you 
to  do.  And  I  will  protect  you  in  this.  Do  not  fear 
to  be  embarrassed  by  any  more  proposals  of  mar- 
riage. That  embarrassment  is  forestalled.  You  are 
understood  to  be  engaged  to  an  American  statesman 
of  high  rank.  And  that  is  also  true,  is  it  not?  You 
do  consider  yourself  most  solemnly  engaged,  yes, 
most  solemnly  and  eternally  engaged,  to  that  man.  not- 
withstanding his  repudiation  of  you,  do  you  not?" 

"Yes,  madame!  But  I  wish  you  would  not  call 
Mr.  Hereward  'that  man,'  "  said  Lilith. 

"Very  well!  Since  you  object,  I  will  call  him  this 
man!  And  while  we  are  objecting,  let  me  tell  you 
that  I  object  to  your  calling  me  'madame,'  as  if  * 
were  somebody's  aunt  or  grandmother!  I  am  only 
about  three  years  older  than  you  are.  And  I  call 
you  'Lilith,'  do  you  observe?  And  my  name  is  Leda; 
though  I  am  likely  to  forget  it,  for  since  my  father 
and  my  husband  died  there  is  no  human  being  in 
the  world  left  to  call  me  Leda,  unless  my  chosen  friend 
and  sister  will  do  so,"  said  Madame  Von  Bruyiu,  with 
a  touch  of  pathos  in  her  tone. 


178  LILITH 

"I  will  go  to  your  ball,  Leda,"  said  Lilith,  conced- 
ing both  points  in  her  gentle  answer. 

The  ball  was  to  be  a  great  success,  and  it  was  a 
great  success. 

Lilith  was  exposed  to  another  complication.  She 
was  in  danger  of  being  "taken  up"  by  a  certain  dis- 
tinguished clique,  patronized  by  a  certain  august  per- 
sonage, and  being  turned  into  a  "professional  beauty." 

And  the  baroness  made  the  conquest  of  an  Italian 
prince,  of  about  her  own  age,  of  much  grace,  beauty 
and  accomplishments;  of — what  is  much  rarer  in  con- 
tinental princes — great  wealth  also,  and  of  a  family 
who  claimed  to  read  their  title  clear  through  all  the 
centuries  of  recorded  history,  back  into  the  age  of 
fable  and  chaos,  where  all  things  are  void  or  misty. 

Prince  Otto  Gherardini  as  a  matter  of  detail. 

This  fascinating  young  Florentine  was  in  personal 
appearance  and  temperament  so  diametrically  an- 
tagonistic to  the  charming  baroness  that  they  were 
inevitably  destined  to  be  attracted  to  each  other,  as 
positive  and  negative  in  electricity. 

Therefore  it  followed  that  at  their  very  first  meet- 
ing the  dark,  graceful,  fiery  Italian  youth  became 
desperately  enamored  of  the  fair,  stately,  serene  Ger- 
man lady. 

After  the  ball,  the  baroness  and  her  protegee  were 
inundated  with  invitations  to  all  sorts  of  entertain- 
ments, so  that  had  they  accepted  every  one,  between 
garden  parties,  morning  concerts,  five  o'clock  teas, 
dinner  parties  and  balls,  they  would  have  had 
scarcely  an  hour  to  call  their  own. 

Liiith,  with  her  saddened  heart,  sank  from  all  these 
social  excitements  and  dissipations,  yet,  being  irre- 
sistibly borne  on  by  the  imperious  will  of  the  baroness, 
she  was  drawn  into  the  maelstrom. 

Gherardini,  with  Italian  subtlety,  contrived  to  meet 
the  baroness  everywhere,  so  that  gossip  soon  con- 


LILITH  179 

nected  their  names,  and  the  world  looked  forward  to 
the  announcement  of  their  betrothal. 

The  baroness  laughed  at  him,  as  a  boy,  behind  his 
back,  but  treated  him  as  a  prince  before  his  face. 

Lilith  secretly  hoped  that  they  might  marry,  and 
be  happy,  so  that  she  herself  might  be  at  liberty  to 
return  to  New  York  and  rest  in  Aunt  Sophie's  quiet 
though  humble  home. 

So  the  London  season  drew  to  its  close.  The  an- 
nouncement of  the  marriage  of  Prince  Otto  Ghe- 
rardini  with  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin,  arranged  to 
come  off  early  in  the  ensuing  year,  appeared  in  the 
Court  Journal,  and  in  the  society  columns  of  other 
London  papers.  It  took  no  one  by  surprise,  not  even 
Lilith. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  and  her  suite  left  London  for 
a  short  tour  in  Wales  and  Cornwall,  and  spent  a  few 
pleasant  and  healthful  weeks  in  leisurely  travel 
through  that  beautiful,  picturesque  and  legendary 
land. 

In  September  they  halted,  and  took  lodgings  at  a 
farm-house  near  the  mountain  village  of  Llandorf. 

There  the}7  settled  down  for  a  brief  period  to  enjoy 
the  simple  country  life  of  the  neighborhood. 

Lilith,  world-weary  and  heart-sick,  felt  the  benign 
and  soothing  influence  of  nature  around  her,  and  re- 
signed herself  to  rest — if  rest  might  be  granted  her. 

It  was  now  eighteen  months  since  she  had  been 
driven  from  her  home.  In  all  this  time  she  had  never 
once  heard  from  her  husband,  and  only  once  had  she 
heard  of  him;  and  that  was  when  she  learned  from 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  that  Mr.  Hereward  had  been 
appointed  Secretary  of  Legation  to  the  Court  of 

.  Since  that  day,  fifteen  months  ago,  no  sign  of 

his  existence  had  appeared  to  her.  In  vain  she 
searched  all  the  insular  and  continental  papers.  His 
name  never  by  any  chance  appeared  in  any  paper. 


180  LILITH 

Did  Lilith  resign  all  hope  of  ever  hearing  of  him, 
seeing  him,  being  reconciled  to  him  again? 

Ah,  no!  Though  hope  was  only  torture  now,  she 
could  not  help  but  entertain  it.  A  thousand  times 
she  had  said  to  herself: 

"There  is  not  the  slightest  possibility  of  such  hap- 
piness for  me.  I  am  dead  to  my  husband!  Yes,  I 
am  dead  to  him,  as  I  could  never  have  been  had  only 
a  natural  death  divided  us,  and  not  a  spiritual  one. 
I  shall  never  meet  him  again,  neither  in  this  life  nor 
the  life  to  come." 

But  though  she  continually  said  this  to  herself, 
and  though  she  tried  to  school  her  heart  to  believe 
it,  yet,  yet,  she  could  not  resign  hope,  for  "While 
there  is  life  there  is  hope" — "Hope  springs  eternal 
in  the  human  breast."  And  so,  though  hope  was 
anguish,  she  could  not  give  it  up. 

One  lovely  day,  near  the  last  of  September,  Lilith 
was  sitting  alone  in  the  little  parlor  of  their  lodgings. 
She  had  drawn  her  chair  to  the  window  to  sit  and 
enjoy  the  fine  view  of  mountain,  lake  and  wood 
stretched  out  before  her. 

The  breakfast  table  was  set,  but  Madame  Von 
Bruyin,  who  was  a  late  riser,  had  not  come  down. 

While  Lilith  sat  there  gazing  from  the  window, 
and  waiting  for  her  patroness,  the  old  postman  for 
that  neighborhood  came  up  the  garden  walk,  and 
seeing  her  at  the  window,  nodded  pleasantly,  and 
stopped  to  deliver  his  mail. 

He  laid  a  pile  of  letters  and  papers  on  the  sill, 
nodded  and  smiled  again,  and  turned  away. 

Lilith  looked  over  the  superscriptions  of  the  letters. 
They  were  all  for  Madame  Von  Bruyin,  Monsieur 
Le  Grange,  the  lady's  maid  or  the  footman.  There 
was  not  one  for  Lilith.  Nor  was  she  disappointed. 
There  seldom  was  a  letter  for  her,  so  she  did  not  ex- 
pect one. 


LILITH  181 

She  placed  the  letters  on  the  breakfast  table,  and 
turned  to  look  at  the  papers. 

She  took  up  the  Times  first,  of  course,  and  she 
turned  first  to  the  foreign  and  diplomatic  news,  hop- 
ing against  hope — as  she  had  done  a  thousand  times 
before — that  she  might  see  her  husband's  name,  if  it 
were  only  a  line  in  the  list  of  guests  at  some  State 
dinner,  or  in  any  casual  event. 

But  no!  There  was  nothing!  She  was  again  dis- 
appointed, as  she  had  been  a  thousand  times  before. 

Wearily,  drearily  her  sad  eyes  wandered  over  the 
paper,  indifferent  now  to  anything  she  might  find 
there. 

Yet — great  Heaven!  What  was  this?  Not  the 
name  of  Tudor  Hereward!  No;  but  the  answer  to 
a  daily,  nightly  agonized  prayer  to  Almighty  God! 
— or  so  it  seemed  to  Lilith's  amazed  vision.  Daily 
and  nightly,  in  her  morning  and  evening  worship, 
for  the  last  two  years,  Lilith  had  prayed: 

"Have  mercy,  oh,  Father,  upon  all  poor  prisoners 
and  captives;  upon  all  miserable  criminals  and  con- 
victs; bringing  the  guilty  to  a  profound  contrition, 
to  pardon  and  to  peace;  bringing  the  innocent  to  a 
full  vindication,  deliverance  and  salvation." 

And  these  words,  upon  which  her  wandering  eyes 
became  fixed  in  astonishment,  seemed  the  answer  to 
that  prayer. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

"A  FULL  VINDICATION" 

SUCH  was  the  heading  of  the  article  that  riveted 
the  attention  of  Lilith  and  that  read  as  follows: 

"A  deplorable  instance  of  the  conviction  of  an  in- 
nocent man,  under  false  circumstantial  evidence,  of 


182  LILITH 

a  crime  that  first  consigned  him  to  the  scaffold,  and 
afterward,  by  the  commutation  of  his  sentence,  sent 
him  to  penal  servitude  for  life,  has  lately  come  to 
light.  Many  of  our  readers  will  remember  the  case  of 
John  Weston,  the  young  man  who  was  convicted, 
eighteen  years  ago,  of  the  robbery  of  the  mail  coach 
running  between  Orton  and  Stockbridge,  Yorkshire, 
and  the  murder  of  a  passenger.  The  young  prisoner 
declared  his  innocence  to  the  last,  but  through  the 
overwhelming  circumstantial  evidence  he  was  con- 
victed and  condemned  to  death.  Great  efforts  were 
made  in  his  behalf,  and  finally,  upon  account  of  his 
youth  and  previous  good  character,  his  sentence  was 
commuted  to  transportation,  with  penal  servitude  for 
life.  He  was  sent  to  Tasmania,  where  it  is  believed  he 
died  soon  after  his  arrival  at  Port  Arthur. 

"But  that  John  Weston  was  entirely  guiltless  of 
the  crime  for  which  he  suffered  is  made  quite  clear 
by  the  ante-mortem  confession  of  a  convict  named 
Thomas  Estel,  who  died  yesterday  in  the  infirmary 
of  Portland  prison. 

"This  man,  convicted  of  forgery  one  year  ago,  was 
almost  immediately  after  his  commitment  to  Port- 
land discovered  to  be  in  a  consumption,  and  assigned 
to  the  infirmary,  where,  after  languishing  for  nearly 
twelve  months,  he  died  yesterday. 

"His  ante-mortem  confession,  made  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  prison  chaplain,  the  governor  of  the  jail, 
and  a  justice  of  the  peace,  is  as  follows: 

"I,  Thomas  Estel,  of  the  city  of  Carlisle,  being 
sound  of  mind,  though  very  infirm  of  body,  and  be- 
lieving myself  to  be  about  to  appear  before  the 
tribunal  of  my  Eternal  Judge  to  give  an  account  of 
the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh,  do  now  make  this  my 
last  statement  and  confession,  concerning  a  crime 
committed  on  the  Orton  and  Stockbridge  road,  on 
the  night  of  November  the  13th,  18 — ,  the  robbery  of 


LILITH  188 

the  mail  coach  and  the  murder  of  a  passenger  at  that 
time  and  place. 

"And  these  were  the  circumstances  under  which  the 
deed  was  done: 

"There  was  a  young  gentleman  of  the  West  Rid- 
ing, a  little  wildish  in  his  ways — young  Mr.  James 
Hawkhurst,  nephew  and  heir  to  Squire  Hawkhurst, 
of  Hawkhurst. 

"This  uncle  had  made  a  will,  disinheriting  him, 
leaving  all  his  property  to  hospitals,  which  he  had 
no  right  to  do,  seeing  that,  although  the  estates  were 
not  entailed,  yet  they  were  the  Hawkhurst  family 
estates,  and  should  have  gone  to  the  heir-at-law, 
young  James  Hawkhurst. 

"This  wicked  will  was  understood  to  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  family  solicitor,  one  John  Keitch,  of 
Carlisle. 

"Old  Squire  Hawkhurst  lay  dying  at  Hawkhurst 
Hall,  and  the  vicar  wrote  to  the  solicitor  to  come 
down  to  the  Hall,  and  to  bring  the  will  along  with 
him. 

"The  solicitor  wrote  back  that  he  should  come  down 
by  the  late  train  to  Stockbridge  and  arrive  by  the 
mail-coach  at  Orton  on  the  night  of  that  13th  day  of 
November. 

"Now,  the  disinherited  heir,  young  Mr.  James,  was 
drinking  with  a  lot  of  us  wild  young  blades  at  the 
Tawny  Lion  public  house  at  Orton.  And  he  told  us 
all  about  it.  We  talked  about  the  injustice  of  the 
old  squire  in  having  robbed  young  Mr.  James  of  his 
inheritance  in  order  to  give  it  to  hospitals.  And 
we  argued  this  way:  that  as  the  squire  had  not  made 
the  fortune  himself,  but  had  received  the  estate  from 
a  long  line  of  forefathers,  so  it  was  his  bounden  duty, 
in  common  honesty,  to  pass  it  along  to  their  descen- 
dants, and  that  if  it  were  not  for  the  existence  of  that 
wicked  will,  the  last  of  the  line,  the  young  squire, 


184  LILITH 

would  enjoy  his  own,  because  he  was  next  of  kin,  and 
heir-at-law. 

"We  all  loved  the  young  squire,  because  he  made 
himself  one  of  us  and  had  no  pride,  and  we  knew 
that  was  the  chief  reason  why  the  old  squire  disin- 
herited him.  So  he  was  in  a  measure  suffering  for 
us. 

"After  a  little  while  Mr.  James  left  us,  but  we  all 
kept  drinking  and  arguing  and  getting  ourselves  up 
more  and  more  into  a  mad  excitement,  until  one  of 
us — I  do  not  remember  now  which  it  really  was — pro- 
posed that  we  should  all  go  in  a  body  and  stop  the 
coach  that  ran  between  Stockbridge  railway  station 
and  Orton,  and  take  that  will  away  from  the  lawyer 
and  destroy  it,  so  that  our  young  squire  might  en- 
joy his  own. 

"We  were  all  mad  drunk,  or  we  would  have  re- 
membered that  our  proposed  adventure  was  really 
highway  robbery — a  felony  punishable,  it  might  be, 
with  transportation  for  life — instead  of  being  the 
brave,  heroic  exploit  we  in  our  madness  believed  it 
to  be. 

"We,  five  in  number — no  matter  who  the  others 
were — I  confess  only  my  own  part — procured  masks 
and  fire-arms,  and  on  the  night  in  question  we  started 
out  on  our  adventure. 

"On  the  road  we  met  young  Joseph  Wyvil,  who 
had  just  come  from  Scotland,  to  which  he  had  run 
away  to  marry  his  sweetheart.  He  did  not  belong 
to  our  part  of  the  world,  though  he  was  known  to 
most  of  us.  He  was  a  wild  one,  up  to  any  sort  of 
fun,  ready  for  any  sort  of  frolic,  but  not  bad. 

"He  gave  us  good  e'en,  and  asked  us,  'Where 
away?'  And  we  told  him  we  were  going  on  a  glorious 
lark,  and  asked  him  to  come  along  with  us,  but  we 
would  not  tell  him,  no,  nor  give  him  a  hint  of  what 
our  adventure  was  to  be. 


LILITH  185 

"First  he  said  he  could  not,  that  'LiP — that  was 
his  wife — was  expecting  him;  but  at  last  he  consented. 

"I  do  think  it  was  curiosity  more  than  anything 
else  that  made  him  join  us!  Poor  fellow!  I  have 
had  many  a  heartache  for  him.  He  kept  on  asking 
us  in  his  smiling  way  where  we  were  going?  What 
we  were  going  to  do? 

"But  we  only  laughed  and  told  him  to  come  and 
see.  And  his  curiosity  was  worked  up  to  such  a  high 
pitch  that  he  did  come  to  see. 

"We  reached  at  last  a  favorable  part  of  the  road 
for  our  enterprise.  Not  one  of  us  thought  it  would 
end  as  badly  as  it  did.  We  only  wanted  to  destroy 
the  wicked  old  squire's  will. 

"We  got  to  the  place  where  we  meant  to  stop  the 
coach. 

"It  was  where  the  road  went  down  into  a  deep- 
wooded  hollow.  There  were  thick,  heavy  woods  on 
each  side.  It  was  as  dark  as  pitch. 

"We  halted  and  stretched  a  strong  thick  rope,  three 
times  doubled,  across  the  road,  tying  the  opposite  ends 
to  the  trunks  of  trees. 

"And  then  we  waited  for  the  coach. 

"That  poor  Joe  Wyvil  kept  on  asking  us  what  we 
were  up  to. 

"And  we  telling  him  to  wait  and  see. 

"And  his  curiosity  was  so  intense  that  he  did  wait 
and  see,  though  all  the  time  he  kept  blaming  himself 
and  saying  that  'LiF  would  be  looking  for  him  and 
wondering  why  he  did  not  come. 

"Ah,  poor  boy!  And  poor  girl!  He  never  went 
back  to  'Lil.'  'LiP  was  doomed  to  look  and  wonder, 
and  wonder  in  vain.  He  waited  to  see  what  we  were 
up  to.  Waited  to  his  own  ruin. 

"Ah,  yes!  the  fate  of  that  poor,  rollicking,  good- 
natured  young  Joe  has  set  heavier  on  my  conscience 
than  the  death  of  that  old  scoundrel  of  a  lawyer; 


186  LILITH 

for  his  death  was  an  accident,  after  all,  though,  as  it 
occurred  while  we  were  trying  to  get  at  the  wicked 
will,  it  was  construed  murder. 

"We  waited  there  for  the  coach  longer  than  we 
expected  to  have  done.  It  was  behind  time.  I  asked 
in  a  whisper  if  anybody  had  a  watch. 

"Joe  said  that  he  had  one.  He  took  it  out,  and  I 
struck  a  match  and  looked  at  the  hour.  It  had  gone 
eleven.  Joe  started  up  and  said  he  must  go,  or  'Li'f 
would  think  'he  was  never  coming  home.'  Seems  to 
me  we  sometimes  utter  prophecies  unawares. 

"Joe  was  really  going  that  time,  but  almost  at  the 
same  moment  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard  and 
the  light  of  the  lantern  was  seen. 

"Several  of  us  spoke  out  at  once,  telling  him  to 
sit  down  quietly  and  wait  five  minutes  and  then  he 
might  go.  He  dropped  down  again  on  his  seat  be- 
side the  road. 

"The  coach  came  on  very  fast,  as  if  to  make  up 
for  lost  time,  the  light  of  the  lantern  shining  like 
two  fiery  eyes  through  the  darkness  of  the  night  in 
the  narrow,  wooded  road. 

"On  it  came  at  full  speed,  the  leaders  stepping 
high,  until  suddenly  they  struck  the  barrier  of  ropes 
we  had  stretched  across  the  road,  reared,  plunged, 
overturned  the  coach,  extinguished  the  lanterns,  and 
all  was  instant  confusion,  men  swearing,  women 
shrieking,  horses  struggling. 

"This  was  much  worse  than  we  had  intended.  We 
wished  to  stop  the  coach  and  get  the  wicked  will, 
not  to  upset  it  at  the  risk  of  the  passengers'  lives. 

"We  immediately  surrounded  the  wreck. 

"I  struck  a  match,  and  keeping  the  black  crape 
well  over  my  face,  leaving  only  one  eye  uncovered,  I 
peered  into  face  after  face  of  the  fallen  passengers, 
until  I  found  my  man,  the  lawyer  from  Carlisle,  with 
the  old  squire's  wicked  will  in  his  possession. 


LILITH  187 

"  'Hand  out  that  beastly  will  and  you  shall  not  be 
hurt;  but  if  you  don't ' 

"He  instantly  drew  a  pistol,  aimed  it  at  my  head 
and  cocked  it. 

"I  struck  the  weapon  up  with  a  swift  stroke  of  my 
hand. 

"Heaven  knows  I  never  meant  to  harm  the  man, 
but  the  pistol  went  off,  and  he  fell,  shot  through  the 
brain,  as  I  afterwards  learned.  I  did  not  know  it 
then.  I  was  mad  with  drink,  I  repeat,  and  what  little 
mental  power  I  had  left  was  occupied  with  the  will. 
I  got  it!  It  was  safe  in  my  hands.  I  hid  it  in  my 
bosom. 

"I  hardly  noted  the  increased  confusion  that  was 
all  around  me,  until  one  of  my  companions  took  me 
by  the  arm  and  whispered,  hurriedly: 

"  'Are  you  dead?  What's  the  matter  with  you? 
There's  murder  done!  The  posse  is  upon  us!  Run!' 

"It  was  true.  The  terrible  noise  had  been  heard 
even  from  that  lonely  road,  the  alarm  had  been  given, 
and  the  constabulary  force  of  the  neighborhood,  with 
all  the  stragglers  that  could  be  picked  up  at  that 
hour,  were  coming. 

"We  made  off  into  the  thick  woods  that  bordered 
the  road,  and  made  good  our  escape  into  the  woods 
that  bordered  the  road  on  either  side — every  one  of 
us,  except  that  poor  boy  who  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  crime. 

"I  got  off  to  America;  for  being  the  most  deeply 
in  for  it,  I  knew  I  must  put  the  broad  ocean  between 
me  and  my  native  land. 

"I  led  a  wandering  life  over  there — that  of  honest 
work  sometimes,  that  of  doubtful  speculation  often; 
was  a  billiard  marker  in  Chicago,  a  bar-tender  in  San 
Francisco,  a  digger  in  the  silver  mines  of  Colorado. 

"It  was  years  before  I  heard  what  had  become  of 


188  LILITH 

my  comrades  in  that  fatal  night's  adventure.  I  feared 
that  some  of  them  had  been  caught,  tried  and  sent 
to  penal  servitude;  but  I  never  once  imagined  that 
any  harm  could  have  come  to  young  Wyvil,  who  was 
not  in  it  at  all,  and  only  happened  to  be  in  our  com- 
pany by  accident,  and  somewhat  against  his  will,  and 
in  total  ignorance  of  our  intention  to  stop  the  coach 
that  night. 

"But  one  day,  about  seven  years  after  I  had  left 
England,  and  while  I  was  in  Colorado,  I  fell  in  with 
an  old  neighbor  from  Orton.  He,  too,  had  corne  to 
seek  his  fortunes  in  the  new  world  and  had  drifted 
out  to  the  silver  mines. 

"It  was  the  first  home-face  I  had  seen  since  I  had 
left  the  country.  It  was  a  great  meeting,  I  can  tell 
you.  I  scrutinized  Stone's  face  to  see  if  he  suspected 
me  of  complicity  in  that  highway  robbery  and  mur- 
der, and  I  was  satisfied  that  he  did  not. 

"I  asked  after  old  friends  and  acquaintances — 
parents  or  near  relatives  I  had  none  to  inquire  of. 

"He  told  me  of  this,  that,  or  the  other  person, 
married,  dead,  emigrated,  or  remaining  as  before. 

"Finally  I  asked,  in  turn,  about  the  comrades  who 
had  been  with  me  on  that  fatal  night,  and  learned  to 
my  astonishment  that  they  were  living  and  prosper- 
ing on  their  small  farms  on  the  great  Hawkhurst 
estate.  It  was  therefore  evident  that  they  had  never 
been  suspected. 

"His  mention  of  the  Hawkhurst  estate  led  me  on 
to  inquire  who  ruled  at  Hawkhurst  now. 

"He  replied  that  the  young  squire  did,  of  course; 
that  no  will  had  been  found  and  Mr.  James  had  en- 
tered into  possession  as  next  of  kin  and  heir-at-law, 
and  everybody  was  satisfied. 

"So  far  our  mad  adventure  had  been  successful,  at 
least.  The  heir  enjoyed  his  own  and  no  great  harm 
had  been  done,  except  the  accidental  death  of  that 


LILITH  189 

old  scoundrel,  so  far  as  I  knew  then.  And  I  might 
have  remained  in  that  happy  belief  if  it  had  not  been 
for  my  next  question. 

"I  asked  him  if  anything  had  ever  been  found  out 
concerning  the  parties  who  had  stopped  the  mail 
coach  that  dark  November  night. 

"He  said  that  the  robbery  was  believed  to  have 
been  committed  by  the  pit  men,  who  were  on  a  strike, 
and  known  to  be  a  most  lawless  set,  fit  for  any  sort 
of  violence;  but  though  several  of  them  had  been  ar- 
rested on  suspicion,  nothing  could  be  proved,  and  they 
had  to  be  released.  And  as  for  young  Joe,  he  was 
game  to  the  last. 

"Young  Joe!  The  name  went  through  my  heart 
like  a  sword!  I  trembled  when  I  asked  Stone  if  he 
meant  Joe  Wyvil,  and  what  he  had  to  do  with  the 
affair. 

"And  then  he  told  me  all  the  terrible  truth!  that 
young  Wyvil  had  been  the  only  one  of  all  the  gang 
who  had  stopped  the  mail-coach  to  be  arrested.  That 
the  roughs  had  escaped  into  the  woods,  but  that  lie 
had  been  taken  'red-handed'  on  the  spot  where  the 
lawyer  fell. 

"I  inquired  what  explanation  the  unhappy  boy  had 
given  of  his  presence  there. 

"The  man  told  me  that  he  had  given  no  satisfac- 
tory account  of  himself  whatever — that  he  had  most 
earnestly  asserted  his  innocence,  and  his  appearance 
on  the  scene  of  the  murder  as  a  mere  accident,  owing 
to  his  having  met  a  party  bent  on  a  'spree,'  and  joined 
them.  He  was  game  to  the  very  last. 

"With  a  great  sinking  of  the  heart,  I  next  inquired 
of  Stone  what  had  been  the  fate  of  young  Wyvil,  and  I 
dreaded  to  hear  his  answer  as  if  it  had  been  a  sentence 
of  death.  And,  indeed,  in  one  respect  it  was  a  sen- 
tence of  death. 

"He    told  me  that  the  vouth  had  been  tried    for 


190  LILITH 

murder,  but  not  under  the  name  of  Wyvil.  The 
name  he  had  given  was  that  of  John  Weston,  and  as 
there  was  nobody  to  contradict  him,  he  being  but  a 
stranger  to  most  people  in  the  neighborhood,  as  John 
Weston  he  was  convicted  and  condemned  to  death. 
But  on  account  of  his  being  a  mere  boy,  with  noth- 
ing against  him  before  that,  and  on  some  other  ac- 
count, his  sentence  was  commuted  to  transportation 
and  penal  servitude  for  life,  and  that  he  had  been 
shot  dead  while  trying  to  make  his  escape,  or  so  it 
was  reported. 

"So  of  the  crime  in  which  five  men  had  been  im- 
plicated no  one  had  been  suspected,  and  no  one 
punished  but  the  innocent  boy  who  knew  nothing 
about  it. 

"Finally  I  asked  Stone  what  had  become  of  <Lil.' 
the  poor  boy's  wife. 

"He  informed  me  that  her  brother,  another  Joseph 
Wyvil  and  a  cousin  of  the  prisoner,  had  come  and 
taken  her  away,  and  it  was  reported  that  he  had  taken 
her  to  America. 

"This  was  all  my  old  neighbor  had  to  tell  me.  And 
soon  after,  the  fortunes  of  war — in  the  mines — sep- 
arated us,  he  going  farther  up  the  country. 

"We  never  met  again. 

"About  two  years  ago  my  health  began  to  fail.  I 
was  attacked  with  this  disease  of  the  lungs  that  had 
carried  off  both  my  parents  before  they  had  reached 
their  fortieth  year  (consumptives  ought  never  to  marry 
— each  other,  anyway).  I  knew  I  did  not  need  the 
doctor  to  tell  me  the  truth,  and  so  I  did  not  tempt 
him  to  tell  me  a  pious,  professional  lie.  I  knew  by 
family  experience  that  I  was  booked  for  the  last  jour- 
ney, and  just  about  how  long  it  might  be. 

"I  was  seized  with  a  homesick  longing  to  see  once 
more  the  English  village  in  which  I  was  born  and 


LILITH  191 

brought  up,  and  where  my  old  friends  lived,  if  any 
remained. 

"So,  about  eighteen  months  ago,  I  sailed  for 
England  in  one  of  the  fast-sailing  ocean  steamers. 
And  when  we  landed  in  Liverpool  I  took  the  first  ex- 
press train  for  Carlisle,  got  out  at  the  Stockbridge 
station  and  took  the  same  coac'h,  or  one  exactly  like 
the  same  coach,  that  I  and  my  reckless  companions 
had  helped  to  wreck,  that  fatal  13th  of  November, 
seventeen  years  before.  I  went  over  the  same  road 
at  the  same  hour,  and  put  up  at  the  Tawny  Lion, 
where  the  coach  stopped,  and  where  we,  reckless 
young  roughs,  had  laid  the  plan  to  recover  the  wicked 
will  which  had  ended  in  such  a  tragedy. 

"But,  oh!  the  changes  in  seventeen  years!  The 
Tawny  Lion  had  passed  into  strangers'  hands.  Very 
few  of  my  old  friends  were  left.  I  went  to  see  the 
young  squire  at  Hawkhurst.  Quite  a  middle-aged 
squire  now,  a  sedate  magistrate  and  sub-lieutenant 
of  the  county;  married  and  surrounded  by  a  large 
family  of  sons  and  daughters.  He  was  very  glad  to 
see  me,  although  he  could  never  have  suspected  that 
it  was  to  my  hand  he  owed  the  destruction  of  that 
will  which  left  him  to  inherit  his  own,  as  next  of  kin 
and  heir-at-law. 

"I  did  not  stay  at  Orton  long.  I  went  up  to  Lon- 
don; and  there,  as  you  know,  I  was  soon  arrested 
for  forgery,  tried,  convicted,  and  sentenced  to  penal 
servitude. 

"But,  gentlemen,  as  I  maintained  during  my  trial, 
I  maintain  here,  on  my  death-bed,  I  never  committed 
that  forgery.  What  call  had  I  to  forge  a  check  for 
a  miserable  five-pound  note,  when  I  had  a  plenty  of 
money  made  in  the  mines? 

"No;  as  I  told  the  judge  and  jury — though  they 
would  not  believe  me — I  now  tell  you  with  my  part- 
ing breath,  I  cashed  that  check  to  accommodate  a 


192  LILITH 

gentleman  who  was  a  guest  in  the  same  hotel  with' 
myself.  I  gave  him  five  sovereigns  for  his  forged 
check,  not  suspecting  it  to  be  forged,  and  in  a  day 
or  two  after  presented  it  at  the  bank  for  payment, 
and  was  nabbed. 

"Though  I  told  my  tale,  I  was  not  for  a  moment 
believed.  No  gentleman  answering  to  his  descrip- 
tion could  be  found.  I  was  the  scapegoat,  and  here 
I  am.  Not  so  badly  off.  Not  worse  than  I  should 
be  in  a  hospital.  I  have  not  done  a  day's  penal  ser- 
vitude, but  have  had  my  long  illness  and  slow  pas- 
sage to  the  grave  soothed  and  cared  for  by  physician 
and  chaplain. 

"I  never  meant  to  be  wicked;  but  when  I  think 
of  the  fate  to  which  I  brought  young  Joe  Wyvil  I 
feel  as  if  I  were  much  better  off  than  I  deserve  to 
be,  even  though  dying  in  a  prison  infirmary. 

"I  thank  the  officers  of  this  prison,  and  especially 
I  thank  tke  chaplain  and  the  doctor  for  their  great 
goodness  to  me;  and  I  pray  the  Lord  to  forgive  the 
sins  of  my  youth.  THOMAS  ESTBL." 

Thus  ended  the  dying  man's  confession,  which  was 
duly  sworn  to,  witnessed,  signed  and  sealed. 

A  few  lines  at  the  end  of  the  article  testified,  on 
the  authority  of  the  prison  officers,  to  the  uniformly 
exemplary  conduct  of  Estel  while  in  confinement,  his 
patience  under  long  and  painful  illness,  his  humility, 
resignation  and  gratitude  for  the  least  favors. 


LILITH  193 


CHAPTER  XVII 

COMING    TO    A   CRISIS 

Look  forward  what's  to  come,  and  back  what's  past; 
Thy  life  will  be  with  praise  and  prudence  graced; 
What  loss  or  gain  may  follow  thou  mayst  guess; 
Then  wilt  thou  be  secure  of  the  success. 
For  on  their  life  no  grievous  burden  lies 
Who  are  well  natured,  temperate  and  wise; 
But  an  inhuman  and  ill-tempered  mind 
Not  any  easy  part  in  life  can  find. 
Lords  of  the  world  have  but  of  life  their  lease, 
And  this,  too,  if  the  lessor  please,  must  cease. 
The  youngest,  in  the  morning,  are  not  sure 
That  till  the  night  their  life  they  can  secure. 

Sir  I.  Denham. 

AFTER  reading  that  strange  confession,  Lilith  sat 
in  a  trance  of  delight  so  rapt  that  in  it  she  forgot 
every  source  of  trouble  to  herself. 

Now  the  guiltless  was  vindicated.  Now  the  secret 
that  had  weighed  her  young  life  almost  down  to  death 
might  be  told.  Now  the  sorely  persecuted  yet  withal 
light-hearted  and  joyous  exile  and  wranderer  might  re- 
turn to  his  own  a  free  and  justified  man. 
•  But  where  was  he? 

Lilith  did  not  know.  She  could  not  even  conjec- 
ture. He  might  not  be  living.  He  was  young,  in- 
deed, but  life  is  uncertain  at  all  ages,  and  his  was  a 
very  careless  and  adventurous  life. 

It  was  now  more  than  eighteen  months  since  Lilith 
had  heard  from  him. 

On  that  fatal  March  21st,  when  her  husband  had 
driven  her  away,  she  had  received  a  letter  from  the 
wanderer,  saying  that  he  was  en  route  for  Chicago, 
and  appointing  the  Personal  column  of  the  Pursuivant 
as  the  medium  of  their  correspondence. 


194  LILITH 

But  after  having  been  banished  by  her  husband 
on  account  of  this  very  wanderer,  whose  sacred  claim 
on  her  he  could  not  understand,  Lilith  had  conscien- 
tiously abstained  from  using  the  Personal  column  of 
the  Pursuivant  for  opening  any  communication  with 
the  banned  exile. 

Indeed,  as  it  will  be  remembered,  Lilith  had  never 
sought  intercourse  by  letter  or  otherwise  with  the 
mysterious  stranger  who  laid  so  much  stress  upon 
his  natural  right  to  her  duty.  In  every  case  it  was 
he  who  had  sought  her,  often  to  her  great  peril,  and 
always  to  her  distressing  embarrassment. 

But,  though  Lilith  had  abstained  from  all  attempts 
to  open  a  correspondence  with  him,  yet  she  had 
regularly  searched  the  papers  for  any  possible  news 
of  the  poor  stroller,  but  without  success. 

At  first  she  had  wondered  much  at  his  utter  silence, 
but  since  hearing  the  report  of  her  own  death  she 
understood  that  silence;  she  knew  that  he  believed 
in  the  truth  of  that  report.  Yet  still  she  had  not 
sought  to  communicate  with  him,  even  for  the  pur- 
pose of  announcing  her  continued  existence,  though 
she  knew  what  joy  such  news  must  bring  to  his  lonely 
heart.  Her  fidelity  to  the  husband  who  had  repudiated 
her  was  so  perfect! 

Yet  now  that  the  fugitive  from  justice  (or  from 
injustice)  was  fully  vindicated— now  that  the  secret 
might  be  told,  the  mystery  cleared  up — she  must  seek 
to  communicate  with  the  wanderer,  and  immediately. 

Two  courses  were  very  urgent — the  first  to  get  that 
published  confession  into  the  hands  of  the  wanderer; 
the  second  to  get  an  interview  with  her  husband. 
Yet,  no!  She  dared  not  seek  the  latter.  If  it  had 
only  been  the  fatal  secret  which  had  parted  them, 
then,  indeed,  she  might  have  written  to  him  or  sought 
his  presence,  and  said: 

"The  mystery  that  raised  a  cloud  between  us  has 


LILITH  195 

been  cleared  away,  and  I  shall  be  justified  in  your 
sight." 

But  it  was  not  only  the  secret  which  had  divided 
them. 

It  was  his  antipathy  to  her — his  incurable  antipathy 
— expressed  in  his  words — bitter,  burning  words — 
that  had  branded  thmselves  upon  her  soul: 

"I  never  loved  you.  I  married  you  only  to  please 
my  dying  father.  .  .  .  In  a  few  hours  I  shall  leave 
this  house,  never  to  return  while  you  desecrate  it  with 
your  presence." 

No!  In  the  face  of  such  a  sentence  she  could  not 
seek  to  see  Tudor  Hereward.  All  womanly  delicacy 
forbade  the  step. 

But  she  must  bring  this  published,  vindicatory  con- 
fession to  the  attention  of  the  exile,  who  had  for 
more  than  eighteen  years  lived  under  a  false  charge 
and  false  conviction,  an  outcast  from  society,  a  wan- 
derer over  the  face  ofr  the  earth. 

Lilith  roused  from  her  trance  and  acted  promptly. 

She  cut  the  slip  containing  the  confession  from  the 
paper,  and  then  sat  down  at  the  little  side  table  on 
which  her  traveling  portfolio  lay,  and  wrote  this  per- 
sonal for  the  Pursuivant: 

"MAZEPPA— J.   W.— J.   W.— A.  A.— A.   M.   L.   Z.— 

Send  your  address  to  E.  W.  H.,  Poste  Restante,  Paris, 
Search  Pursuivant  for  news." 

Having  written  this,  she  took  another  sheet  of 
paper,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  Pursui- 
vant, inclosing  the  slip  of  paper  containing  the  con- 
fession of  Thomas  Estel,  and  asking  him,  in  the  name 
of  justice  and  humanity,  to  give  it  a  place  in  his 
columns;  or  if  he  thought  it  a  matter  of  not  sufficient 
interest  for  the  reading  public,  at  least  to  put  its 
purport  in  a  few  lines  that  might  meet  the  eyes  of 
an  unhappy  fugitive,  suffering  under  the  blight  of 


196  LILITH 

a  false  conviction.  She  enclosed  the  whole  in  one 
envelope,  but  did  not  seal  it,  for  it  was  necessary  that 
she  should  get  a  letter  of  credit  to  send  with  it  to 
pay  for  the  advertisement. 

She  had  scarcely  finished  her  v/ork  when  the 
baroness  entered  the  parlor. 

"Writing  so  early  in  the  morning,  mignonne?  The 
mail  must  have  brought  you  important  news,"  said 
the  lady,  as  she  sank  languidly  into  an  easy  chair. 

"It  has,  madame!  News  that  will  oblige  me  to  go 
to  Chester  to-day,  if  you  can  spare  me,"  said  Lilith. 

"Why,  of  course.  I  must  spare  you,  petite,  if  you 
have  affairs.  You  can  take  Monsieur  Le  Grange  to 
escort  you,  if  you  please,"  said  the  baroness,  kindly. 

"If  monsieur  would  be  so  good  I  should  be  very 
grateful,"  began  Lilith. 

"Bon jour,  mesdames!  In  what  manner  can  I  be 
so  happy  as  to  serve  you?"  inquired  the  gallant  old 
Frenchman,  who  entered  at  this  point  of  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"Mrs.  Wyvil  has  business  in  Chester  to-day,  and 
would  be  glad  of  your  escort,  if  you  could  find  it  con- 
venient to  attend  her,"  said  Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

"I  shall  find  myself  most  happy,  most  honored," 
replied  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  with  a  bow. 

"Touch  the  bell,  if  you  please,  monsieur;  it  is  with- 
in your  reach,"  said  the  baroness. 

The  Frenchman  rang,  and  breakfast  was  imme- 
diately served. 

A  messenger  was  dispatched  to  bring  a  carriage 
from  the  "Llewellyn  Arms,"  the  only  hotel  in  the 
village. 

And  as  soon  as  the  morning  meal  was  over  Lilith 
prepared  for  her  journey. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  was  not  without  her  share  of 
feminine  curiosity;  but  she  refrained  from  asking 
questions,  and  occupied  herself  with  opening  and  read- 


LILITH  197 

ing  her  letters — there  were  seven  from  her  princely 
lover,  and  one  from  an  eminent  Paris  man-milliner  or 
ladies'  tailor,  whichever  you  please,  with  whom  she 
was  in  correspondence  on  the  subject  of  her  trousseau. 

Lilith  and  Monsieur  Le  Grange  appeared  in  the 
parlor  equipped  for  their  journey  at  the  same  moment 
that  the  fly  from  the  hotel  drew  up  at  the  door. 

"I  shall  return  as  soon  as  possible,  madame,  and  I 
hope  our  absence  will  not  inconvenience  you,"  said 
Lilith. 

"Enjoy  yourselves,  mes  enfans!"  said  the  baroness, 
gayly.  "I  shall  occupy  myself  with  answering  letters." 

The  two  travelers  took  leave  and  departed  on  their 
journey. 

Llandorf  was  distant  five  miles  from  the  nearest 
railway  station;  and  it  took  the  one-horse  fly  from 
the  Llewellyn  Arms  a  full  hour  to  get  there.  Fortu- 
nately, they  were  in  time  for  the  eleven  o'clock  ex- 
press. 

Monsieur  Le  Grange  made  a  bargain  with  the  fly 
to  meet  them  again  on  the  arrival  of  the  seven  o'clock 
train,  and  then  took  tickets  and  put  his  companion 
into  a  coupe,  which  he  shared  with  her. 

A  two  hours'  rapid  ride  through  the  most  pictur- 
esque part  of  Wales  brought  them  into  the  ancient  city 
of  Chester. 

At  Lilith's  request,  they  went  first  to  the  Bank  of 
Wales,  where  she  obtained  her  bill  of  exchange, 
which  she  enclosed  with  her  letter,  advertisement, 
and  so  on,  in  the  large  envelope,  directed  to  the  edi- 
tor of  the  Pursuivant.  This  done,  they  went  to  the 
post-office,  posted  the  letter  and  then  drove  to  the 
Grosvenor  Hotel,  where  they  took  lunch. 

At  five  o'clock  they  took  the  express  train  back  to 
the  station,  where  on  their  arrival  they  found  the  fly 
from  the  Llewellyn  Arms  waiting  for  them. 

In  another  hour  they  had  reached  the  farm-house 


198  LILITH 

where  it  pleased  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin  to  rusticate 
for  a  season. 

The  lady,  who  affected  rural  hours,  had  dined  early, 
and  was  waiting  tea  for  them. 

She  asked  no  questions,  though  still  very  curious 
to  know  what  was  the  nature  of  that  business  which 
had  taken  her  young  friend  off  so  suddenly. 

Lilith,  totally  unconscious  of  madame's  silent  curi- 
osity, gave  no  sign. 

After  tea  the  professor  read  to  the  two  ladies  for 
some  hours.  Then  the  party  separated  and  retired 
to  rest. 

Lilith,  having  done  all  that  lay  in  her  power  to  do, 
under  the  circumstances,  impatiently  waited  for  re- 
sults. 

Weeks  passed  away,  and  the  baroness  began  to 
weary  of  the  rural  life  that  at  first  had  pleased  her 
so  much. 

It  was  now  late  in  October,  and  the  weather  was 
growing  cool.  Pony  rides  among  the  mountains  and 
rowings  on  the  lake  were  not  such  delightful  recrea- 
tions as  she  had  found  them  earlier  in  the  season. 

In  a  word,  Madame  Von  Bruyin  was  tired  of 
Llandorf,  and  longing  for  Paris — weary  of  the  world 
of  nature,  and  sighing  for  the  world  of  society. 

One  morning  she  suddenly  announced  her  inten- 
tions : 

"We  will  go  to  Paris  on  the  first  of  November. 
A  proper  trousseau  cannot  be  arranged  entirely  by 
correspondence.  If  we  get  settled  by  the  first  week 
we  shall  have  a  clear  month  before  the  gay  season 
begins.  What  do  you  say,  niignonne?" 

"I  am  ready,  madame,"  answered  Lilith,  so  cheer- 
fully that  the  lady  could  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of 
the  girl's  assent.  Lilith  was  also  anxious  to  be  in 
the  French  capital  in  time  for  any  answer  that  might 
come  to  her  advertisement  for  the  wanderer,  whom 


LILITH  199 

she  had  notified  to  address  all  communications  for 
her  to  the  Poste  Restante,  Paris. 

Monsieur  Le  Grange,  who  added  to  his  duties  of 
secretary  those  of  courier  and  general  utility,  was 
instructed  to  make  immediate  preparations  for  their 
journey. 

On  the  thirty-first  of  October,  being  All-Hallow 
Eve,  the  party  left  Llandorf  for  Southampton,  and 
on  the  evening  of  the  first  of  November  they  reached 
Paris. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin's  house  on  the  Champs  Elysees 
had  been  put  in  order  for  her  reception,  in  obedience 
to  a  telegram  from  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  so  that  the 
travelers  at  once  found  themselves  at  home  in  com- 
fortable and  luxurious  quarters. 

The  day  after  their  arrival  Lilith  went  to  the  post- 
office  to  inquire  if  any  letters  had  arrived  directed  to 
E.  W.  H. 

She  received  an  answer  that  there  were  none. 

Disappointed,  she  returned  home,  and  spent  the 
remainder  of  the  day  in  driving  about  with  Madame 
Von  Bruyin  among  the  most  fashionable  shops. 

The  woman  of  vast  wealth  displayed,  perhaps,  more 
extravagance  than  taste  in  the  selection  of  her  cos- 
tumes. She  carried  in  her  hand  a  slip  cut  from  a 
newspaper,  describing  at  great  length,  and  very 
minutely,  the  dresses  and  jewels  of  some  "royal  high- 
ness," who  had  just  married  an  imperial  prince,  and 
she  was  resolved  to  have  fac-similes  of  each  dress, 
with  additional  dresses  of,  if  possible,  still  more  beau- 
tiful styles  and  more  expensive  materials. 

Her  interviews  with  Worth,  Pingen  and  other 
"celebrated"  man-milliners  or  ladies'  tailors  (as  you 
please)  occupied  her  the  whole  day,  so  that  late  in 
the  evening  she  returned  with  Lilith,  almost  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue. 

As  that  day  passed,  so  passed  many  others. 


200  LILITH 

Lilith,  on  going  early  in  the  morning  to  the  post- 
office  to  inquire  for  letters  directed  to  E.  W.  H.,  would 
meet  nothing  but  heart-wearying  disappointment,  and 
on  returning  home  would  be  required  to  attend 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  on  her  round  among  jewelers, 
milliners  and  modistes. 

Madame  Von  Bruyiu,  with  the  most  amiable  in- 
tentions, embarrassed  Lilith  very  much  by  forcing  up- 
on her  costly  presents  in  jewelry,  Indian  shawls,  dress 
patterns,  and  so  forth;  for  how  could  the  wealthy 
and  good-natured  baroness  make  such  magnificent 
purchases  for  herself,  and  before  the  eyes  of  her 
pretty  young  companion,  and  not  give  her  beautiful 
adornings?  And  though  Lilith  shrank  from  these 
offerings,  and  declared  that  such  splendors  were  not 
suited  to  her  condition,  the  baroness  persisted  in 
pressing  them  upon  her,  declaring  that  they  were  all 
most  peculiarly  fitted  for  her,  having  been  designed 
and  manufactured  to  adorn  youth  and  beauty  just 
such  as  hers. 

As  day  after  day  passed  with  the  disappointment 
of  the  morning,  and  the  wearying  round  of  the  after- 
noon, Lilith  grew  heart-sick  and  brain-sick  over  it 
all.  The  splendors  of  the  preparations  for  the  ap- 
proaching wedding  were  in  such  dissonance  to  her 
anxious  and  despairing  mood  that,  young  and  beau- 
tiful as  she  was,  she  began  to  take  a  strong  distaste 
to  finery,  and  to  wish  herself  among  the  plain  Metho- 
dists of  Aunt  Sophie's  humble  boarding-house. 

Lilith  longed  for  sobriety  and  repose,  while  her  life 
seemed  to  pass  in  whirlwind  and  lightning. 

She  had  formed  her  resolution,  however,  and  it  was 
this: 

If  she  should  hear  from  the  wanderer  she  would 
send  him  to  Mr.  Hereward  to  divulge  his  secret,  now 
no  longer  needing  to  be  kept,  to  justify  her  conduct, 


LILITH  201 

and  leave  it  to  her  husband  to  seek  her  if  it  should 
please  him  to  do  so. 

Or — if  she  should  hear  nothing  from  the  wanderer 
up  to  the  time  of  Madame  Von  Bruyin's  marriage, 
she  would,  on  that  occasion,  only  wait  until  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  should  have  left  Paris,  and  then  she 
would  run  down  to  Havre  by  rail  and  take  the  first 
homeward-bound  steamer  to  New  York. 

Sometimes  she  wondered  why  the  baroness  never 
seemed  to  take  any  interest  or  to  care  to  ask  any 
questions  in  regard  to  her  young  companion's  future 
plans.  But  she  supposed  that  Madame  Von  Bruyin 
was  too  much  absorbed  in  her  own  interesting  pros- 
pects to  think  of  anybody  else's. 

In  this  supposition,  however,  Lilith  did  her  friend 
but  scant  justice. 

The  baroness — in  her  secret  heart — had  quite  set- 
tled the  question  of  her  companion's  future,  and  had 
no  suspicion  that  Lilith  would  raise  any  objection  to 
her  plan  or  that  it  was  even  necessary  at  present 
to  allude  to  it. 

The  day  of  explanation  soon  came,  however. 

It  was  Sunday.  They  could  not  go  out  shopping. 
They  attended  church  in  the  forenoon,  and,  after  an 
early  dinner,  lounged  about  in  Madame  Von  Bruyin's 
boudoir.  Letters  had  been  left  for  the  baroness  on 
the  previous  day,  but  she  had  returned  from  her 
shopping  too  tired  to  examine  any  of  them  except 
those  addressed  in  the  handwriting  of  the  prince,  her 
betrothed,  which  she  had  read  with  avidity;  the 
others  she  had  pushed  aside  until  a  more  convenient 
season. 

Now,  on  this  Sabbath  afternoon,  her  languid  eyes 
fell  upon  the  little  heap  of  letters  still  lying  upon  her 
writing-table. 

"Nothing  more  interesting  than  circulars  from 
tradespeople,  I  fancy,"  she  said,  as  she  lazily  picked 


202  LILITH 

them  up  and  passed  them  through  her  fingers  as  if 
they  had  been  a  pack  of  playing  cards. 

"Ah!  but  here  is  one  for  you,  petite,  directed  to 
my  care !  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  find  it  yesterday,  when 
I  should  have  given  it  to  you.  It  bears  the  New  York 
postmark,  and  is  perhaps  from  the  good  Aunt  Sophie, 
who  is,  I  believe,  your  only  correspondent  in  the 
world.  Is  it  not  so?"  said  the  baroness,  as  she  held 
the  letter  out  to  Lilith,  who  came  eagerly  forward 
to  claim  it. 

Yes,  it  was  from  Aunt  Sophie. 

And  while  Madame  Von  Bruyin  opened  and  glanced 
over  her  own  hitherto  neglected  correspondence, 
Lilith  opened  and  read  Aunt  Sophie's  simple  epistle: 

"NEW  YORK,  October  21,  18—. 

"MY  DARLING  CHILD: — I  take  this  favorable  oppor- 
tunity to  rite  to  you  to  inform  you  that  we  are  all  in 
good  helth,  thanks  be  to  the  gracious  Lord,  and  hoping 
that  this  letter  may  find  you  and  the  barreness  enjoy- 
ing the  same  rich  blessing. 

"My  dear  child,  I  have  not  received  any  letter  from 
you  sence  I  rote  to  you  last  September,  which  I  think 
my  letter  must  of  miscarryed  or  else  the  ship  must 
of  been  shiprecked.  Oh,  do  rite  to  me  and  tell  me 
how  you  are  and  when  you  are  coming  home,  for  you 
know  this  is  your  home,  my  darling  child  and  honey. 
There  is  an  interesting  young  man  here,  who  have 
taken  Mr.  More's  room  which  he  left  when  he  got 
married,  you  know,  and  he  is  a  very  hopeful  young 
man,  indeed,  which  I  hope  he  will  make  a  powerful 
minister  some  of  these  days,  though  he  says  he  is 
not  worthy  to  black  a  Christian  minister's  boots.  He 
saw  your  photograf  on  the  mantlepiece  one  day  and 
took  such  an  interest  into  it  and  read  the  dedercation 
on  the  back,  where  you  know  you  rote  To  my  dear 
Aunt  Sophie,  from  her  loving  child,  and  he  asked 


LILITH  203 

me  most  a  hundred  questions  about  you  and  I  tolde 
him  all  I  knowd.  He  is  a  Perfeck  Gentleman  and  his 
name  is  a  Mister  Ansolong.  I  dont  know  as  I  spell 
it  rite  because  I  never  saw  it  rote  but  thats  the  way 
it  sounds.  Well  honey  we  are  all  going  on  very  much 
in  the  same  way  as  when  you  left.  Mrs.  Farquier  I 
think  is  agoing  to  be  married  to  Elder  perkins  of  our 
church.  I  don't  holde  with  second  marriages  myself, 
but  everybody  must  walk  accordin'  to  their  own  lites. 
Brother  More  has  done  a  good  work  for  the  Lord 
and  brought  a  menny  wandering  sheepe  into  the  fold. 
But  you  know  his  term  with  us  will  soon  be  out  and 
I  hope  and  pray  as  the  Conference  will  send  him 
back  to  us  but  after  all  we  mussent  lean  too  much 
on  the  Arm  of  flesh  knowing  who  is  Our  Helper. 
I  do  wish  as  that  dear  Mister  Ansolong  would  enter 
the  ministry.  What  a  preacher  he  would  make!  He 
reads  the  Bible  like  an  Angel!  It  is  enough  to  make 
one  Cry  to  hear  him.  But  he  says  he  has  not  studied 
and  I  tell  him  that  Peter  and  John  and  James  and 
their  bretheren  never  studied  because  there  want  any 
collidges  in  their  days  but  he  up  and  put  it  to  me 
that  John  and  James  and  they  had  the  best  of  all 
teaching  in  tke  pursonal  presence  and  example  and 
instruction  of  Our  Saviour.  And  there  he  got  the 
better  of  me  which  only  makes  me  feel  surer  wrhat  a 
powerful  preacher  he  would  be  if  he  only  had  the 
Holy  Spirit.  But  there,  my  darling  child,  I  am  run- 
ning on  until  this  shete  of  paper  though  it  is  foolscap 
is  almost  full — so  I  must  finish,  with  praying  that  the 
Lord  will  bless  you.  Give  my  Love  to  the  dear  bar- 
reness  and  tell  her  the  money  she  giv  me  to  spend 
on  the  poor  Street  children  is  doing  a  good  work  and 
Brother  More  is  drawing  up  a  Report  to  send  her, 
with  the  names  and  histories  of  the  children  Beni- 
fitted.  So  no  more  at  present  from  your  Affectionate 
Friend  SOPHIE  DOWNIE." 


204  LILITH 

Lilith  read  this  letter  with  a  joy  scarcely  less  pro- 
found and  grateful  than  that  with  which  she  had  read 
the  vindicatory  confession  of  the  convict,  Thomas 
Estel. 

Ancillon  was  still  living;  he  had  not  fallen  a  vic- 
tim to  any  deadly  fever  of  the  South,  or  to  the  knife 
of  any  border  ruffian  of  the  West;  he  had  not  per- 
ished in  any  railroad  collision  or  steamboat  explo- 
sion; and  these  were  the  only  perils  which,  in  Lilith' s 
opinion,  could  end  a  life  so  young  and  sound  as  his 
was.  He  still  lived,  and  in  his  adventurous  or  drift- 
ing life  had  drifted  into  the  calm  haven  of  Aunt 
Sophie's  home. 

It  was  very  curious  that  he  should  have  done  so, 
Lilith  thought;  but,  then,  experience  shows  us  many 
curious  coincidences  in  life. 

She  wondered  whether  he  had  seen  her  advertise- 
ment in  the  Pursuivant,  or  whether,  since  he  had 
given  her  up  for  dead,  he  had  not  ceased  to  search 
the  Personal  column,  which  was  to  have  been  their 
medium  of  communication  when  far  distant  from 
each  other.  But  even  if  he  had  neglected  that  par- 
ticular column  in  which  her  one  advertisement  was  a 
standing  item,  still  he  must  have  read  other  portions 
of  the  paper,  and  so  must  have  seen  the  account  of 
the  convict's  ante-mortem  confession,  which  cleared 
John  Weston  from  all  complicity  in  the  crime  for 
which  he — John  Weston — alone  had  suffered;  and  yet, 
perhaps,  he  might  have  missed  that  one  paper,  or 
even  in  reading  it,  he  might  have  overlooked  that  one 
article,  so  full  of  importance  to  him. 

At  all  events  it  appeared  that  he  had  not  seen  either 
the  standing  advertisement  in  the  Personal  column  or 
the  copied  account  of  Thomas  Estel's  ante-mortem 
confession. 

He  was  still  lingering  at  Mrs.  Downie's  quiet  house 
in  New  York  City.  And  Lilith's  joy  and  gratitude 


LILITH  205 

at  having  a  sure  clew  to  the  wanderer  was  so  great 
as  to  exceed  her  surprise  and  wonder  at  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  recovered. 

She  determined  to  write  by  the  first  mail  to  Mrs. 
Downie  and  to  Alfred  Ancillon. 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  the  subject  of  her  thoughts 
that  she  did  not  perceive  that  Madame  Von  Bruyin 
had  been  watching  her  attentively  for  some  moments, 
until  at  length  that  lady  spoke. 

"Lilith,"  she  said,  "you  must  have  received  some 
very  happy  surprise  in  your  letter,  to  judge  by  the 
rapt  delight  of  your  face." 

"I  have,"  replied  the  young  creature,  in  a  joyous 
tone.  "I  have  received  news  of  a  long  absent  and 
very  dear  relative,  from  whom  I  had  not  heard  for 
nearly  two  years.  I  had  feared  he  was  dead;  but  he 
is  living,  in  good  health,  at  Aunt  Sophie's  house." 

"Ah!  I  congratulate  you,  my  dear.  So  this  letter 
is  from  Aunt  Sophie,  as  I  supposed.  How  is  the  dear 
woman?"  sympathetically  inquired  the  baroness. 

"Well  as  ever,  thank  Heaven,  always  well.  She 
sends  you  messages  of  love  and  gratitude.  Would 
you  like  to  see  her  letter?"  said  Lilith,  holding  out 
the  paper. 

"No,  dear;  I  have  seen  letters  enough  for  one  eve- 
ning. That  good  Aunt  Sophie!  There  she  is,  always 
confined  to  one  narrow  round  of  duties.  I  wonder 
if  she  would  not  like  to  see  more  of  the  world?  Could 
not  she  come  out  to  us,  if  I  were  to  send  her  an  excur- 
sion ticket?  Could  not  she  leave  the  quiet,  well- 
ordered  little  household  in  the  hands  of  one  of  those 
matronly  widows  who,  having  lived  so  long  with  her, 
seem  to  be  of  the  same  family?  What  a  delight  it 
would  be  to  show  her  Paris!  What  do  you  think, 
Lilith?" 

"It  would  indeed  be  most  delightful!  And,  indeed, 
although  it  does  not  seem  so  at  first  view,  I  think  it 


206  LILITH 

would  be  quite  practicable.  Aunt  Sophie  is  such  a 
brave,  enterprising  little  woman.  I  even  think  she 
need  not  cross  alone.  I  think  Mr.  Ancillon,  my  rela- 
tive, may  be  coming  over  on  business  and  may  bring 
her." 

"Enchanting!  And  they  can  both  stay  here  and 
take  care  of  you  while  Gherardini  and  myself  are  on 
our  wedding  tour.  Ridiculous  etiquette,  a  wedding 
tour." 

"But,  madame,"  said  Lilith,  in  a  tone  of  surprise, 
"do  you  really  wish  to  keep  me  on  after  your  mar- 
riage?" 

"I  wish,  and  with  your  consent  I  intend,  to  hold 
you,  as  a  dear  sister,  under  my  immediate  protection 
as  long  as  we  both  shall  live,  or  until  you  shall  be 
claimed  by  Tudor  Hereward,  in  the  case  of  his  re- 
pentance, or  by  some  better  man  in  case  of  Hereward's 
death." 

"But,  madame " 

"There,  there,  mignonne,  do  not  let  us  dispute  to- 
night. It  is  time  to  go  to  bed.  Write  to-morrow 
to  your  friend  Mrs.  Downie,  and  invite  her  here  in  my 
name.  To  be  present  here  at  my  marriage.  And  to 
take  care  of  you  during  my  absence.  Put  the  last- 
mentioned  reason  strongly,  as — to  be  of  use  would  be 
a  great  inducement  to  that  dear,  unselfish  soul! 
There  are  people,  Lilith,  who  must  be  convinced 
that  they  are  doing  something  of  utility  for  some- 
body else  before  they  can  be  persuaded  to  enjoy 
themselves.  Convince  this  dear  Aunt  Sophie  that  you 
will  need  her,  and  she  will  come  over  and  enjoy  sight- 
seeing in  Paris  with  all  the  zest  of  youth.  I  will  get 
Le  Grange  to  see  about  the  ticket  to-morrow,  so  that 
you  can  inclose  it  in  your  letter." 

"But  suppose,  after  all,  she  should  not  come?  The 
ticket  will  be  lost,"  said  Lilith. 

"Well,  the  steamship  company  will  gain.    That  is 


LILITH  207 

all,"  replied  the  baroness,  rising  and  putting  her  fair 
hand  over  her  lips  to  conceal  a  yawn. 

At  this  unmistakable  sign  of  weariness,  Lilith  took 
the  hint  and  rang  the  bell  for  the  servants  to  close 
up  the  apartments. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  friends  had  retired. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SURPRISE    ON   SURPRISE 

THAT  letter  and  that  ticket  were  destined  never  to 
be  sent! 

The  next  morning,  while  Madame  Von  Bruyin, 
Lilith  Hereward,  and  Monsieur  Le  Grange  were  seated 
at  breakfast  together,  a  card  was  brought  in  on  a 
silver  waiter  and  offered  to  Lilith. 

She  picked  it  up  and  read: 

SENOR  ZUNIGA. 

And  underneath,  in  brackets,  the  lightly-penciled 
name  of  Alfred  Ancillon. 

Lilith  could  scarcely  suppress  a  cry  as  she  started 
to  her  feet. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  the  baroness. 

"My  relative  from  New  York  has  arrived!"  joy- 
fully exclaimed  Lilith. 

"Indeed!  I  congratulate  you.  Go  to  him  at  once, 
my  dear,"  said  the  baroness,  cordially.  Then  turning 
to  the  page,  she  inquired: 

"Where  have  you  shown  the  gentleman,  Henri?" 

"Into  the  small  salon,  madame,"  replied  the  lad. 

"Quite  right.  Attend  Madame  Wyvil  thither.  Go, 
my  dear.  Do  not  keep  your  friend  a  moment  wait- 
ing," said  the  baroness,  sympathetically. 

Lilith   left   the    room,  attended  by  the  page,  and 


208  LILITH 

crossed  the  hall  to  enter  the  small  salon  overlooking 
the  Champs  d'Elysees. 

The  young  page  opened  the  door  for  lier  to  pass 
in,  and  then  closed  it  and  retired. 

Mr.  Alfred  Ancillon,  or  Sefior  Zuniga,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  bright  room,  looking  the  image  of 
glorious,  immortal  youth. 

He  came  eagerly  forward  and  opened  his  arms. 

Lilith  fell  upon  his  bosom  in  a  passion  of  joyous 
sobs  and  tears. 

He  embraced  her  warmly,  straining  her  to  his  heart, 
pressing  kisses  on  her  face,  before  either  of  them 
spoke  a  syllable. 

Their  first  utterances  were  almost  incoherent  in 
their  gladness. 

"Oh,  thank  Heaven  that  you  still  live!" 

"Thanks  be  to  the  Lord  that  I  find  you  safe,  my 
darling  child!" 

"At  last!    Oh,  at  last  you  are  vindicated!" 

"Restored  to  life,  almost  from  the  grave.  Oh!  my 
child!" 

"By  what  happy  chance  did  you  drift  into  Aunt 
Sophie'*  house?" 

"I  will  tell  you  presently,  my  dear,  for " 

"And  how  is  dear  Aunt  Sophie?" 

"You  must  judge  for  yourself,  darling!  Look  up! 
There — there  she  is!" 

Lilith  lifted  herself  from  the  senor's  breast  and 
turned  her  head  to  see  a  round,  black  bundle  of  a 
little  old  woman,  on  the  bottom  of  an  easy-chair,  un- 
roll itself  and  come  towards  her  in  the  form  of  Mrs. 
Downie. 

Yes,  it  was  indeed  Aunt  Sophie!  There  was  the 
same  soft,  round  form,  the  same  careless  though  clean 
black  gown  and  shawl,  the  same  little  mashed  black 
silk  bonnet,  the  same  smiling,  babyish  old  face,  with 
its  fair  skin,  blue  eyes  and  rumpled  gray  hair.  It 


LILITH  209 

was  dear  Aunt  Sophie  in  person,  wonderful  as  the  fact 
appeared. 

With  a  half -suppressed  cry  of  joy  Lilith  ran  to  her, 
caught  her  in  her  arms  and  covered  her  face  with 
kisses,  while  Aunt  Sophie  cried  quietly  without  speak- 
ing a  word. 

Presently  Lilith  led  her  to  a  seat  on  the  sofa  and 
sat  down  beside  her,  holding  her  hand,  gazing  into 
her  sweet  old  face,  and  uttering  her  delight  in  frag- 
mentary words. 

"How  comes  it  that  I  have  the  joy  of  seeing  you? 
It  was  only  yesterday  evening  that  I  got  your  dear 
letter.  This  very  day  I  was  going  to  write  to  you 
to  come  here  to  us.  Was  not  that  strange?  But 
you  always  anticipated  my  wishes,  did  you  not?  But 
what  happy  inspiration,  what  angel  sent  you  here?" 

"Why,  it  was  him,"  replied  Aunt  Sophie,  simply, 
pointing  to  the  senor.  "He  fetched  me.  I  believe 
he  could  persuade  anybody  in  this  world  to  do  any- 
thing he  wanted.  And  all  in  such  a  hurry,  too!  I 
never  made  up  my  mind  so  quick  in  all  my  life  be- 
fore; and  never  shall  in  all  my  life  again.  I  declare 
I  was  on  board  of  the  ship  before  I  well  knowed  what 
I  was  doing." 

The  Senor  Zuniga  broke  into  one  of  Alfred  Ancil- 
lon's  joyous  bursts  of  laughter  as  he  explained: 

"If  I  had  given  her  time  to  reflect  she  might  have 
hesitated  to  come.  If  I  had  not  hurried  her  out  of 
her  senses  I  could  not  have  brought  her.  Hear!  I 
saw  your  advertisement  in  the  Personal  column  of 
the  Pursuivant,  by  chance,  just  thirteen  days  ago.  I 
saw  that  it  had  been  in  for  some  weeks,  though  I  had 
not  observed  it.  This  was  on  Tuesday.  I  reflected 
that  I  could  go  to  you  in  person  as  quickly  as  I  could 
communicat'e  with  you  by  letter,  so  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  sail  the  next  day  by  the  City  of  Paris.  The 
steamers  from  America  to  Europe  are  not  crowded 


210  LILITH 

at  this  season,  whatever  the  steamers  from  Europe 
to  America  may  be.  I  went  to  the  agent's  office,  feel- 
ing sure  of  getting  berths,  and  I  got  them.  I  got 
two  tickets,  one  for  myself  and  one  for  Aunt  Sophie, 
for  I  felt  sure  of  persuading  her  to  accompany 
me " 

"He  could  persuade  any  mortal  man  or  woman  to 
do  anything  he  wanted  them  to  do,"  put  in  the  old 
lady. 

"Well,  you  may  call  it  whim,  eccentricity  or  in- 
spiration, but  I  felt  a  great  desire  to  take  Mrs.  Downie 
with  me,  and  I  was  resolved  to  gratify  that  desire." 

"Yes,  he  did,"  again  put  in  Aunt  Sophie.  "He  come 
right  in  the  kitchen,  where  I  was  sitting  down  with 
a  blue  check  apron  on,  paring  apples  to  make  pies 
for  dinner;  for,  my  dear,  he  went  all  over  the  house 
like  a  tame  kitten;  and  he  says  to  me  all  of  a  sudden: 

"  'I  want  you  to  let  the  house  take  care  of  itself 
and  go  to  Europe  with  me  to-morrow  morning  to  see 
your  favorite'  (that  was  you,  my  dear). 

"And  I  declare  I  was  so  startled  I  give  a  jump 
and  let  the  pan  fall,  and  the  apples  rolled  all  over 
the  kitchen  floor.  Asking  me  all  in  a  minute  to  go 
to  Europe  with  him  to-inorrow  as  if  it  had  been  going 
to  Harlem  or  Brooklyn!" 

Again  the  irrepressible  laughter  of  the  serior  burst 
forth  as  he  said: 

"Well,  you  are  not  sorry  you  came?" 

"Oh,  no!  But,  goodness,  child,  think  of  it!  I,  who 
had  lived  nigh  seventy  years  in  this  world  without 
ever  going  more  than  fifty  miles  from  home,  and  that 
only  once  in  my  life,  to  be  asked  all  of  a  sudden  to 
go  to  Europe  next  day!" 

"It  was  startling!"  said  Lilith,  smiling. 

"Startling!  And  then  to  hear  him  talk.  Why,  to 
hear  him  you  would  think  to  go  from  New  York  to 


LILITH 

Havre  was  no  more  than  to  row  across  a  river.  Then 
he  got  my  boarders  on  his  side.  I  think  they  thought 
it  was  fun.  And  they  all  got  me  in  such  a  whirl 
that  I  hardly  kuowed  whether  I  was  awake  or  asleep. 
And  before  I  rightly  knowed  what  I  wras  about  I  was 
on  the  steamer  and  out  of  sight  of  land!" 

"I  hope  you  left  them  all  well  at  your  house,"  said 
Lilith. 

"Oh,  yes,  honey,  all  mons'ous  well.  Mrs.  Farquier 
is  going  to  be  married  to  Elder  Perkins,  of  our  church. 
I  believe  I  told  you  in  my  letter." 

"Yes,  you  did." 

"Well,  child,  he  is  rich — awful  rich.  And  they 
are  to  be  married  next  spring.  He  is  a  building  of 
a  fine  new  house  way  up  town,  facing  on  the  Park, 
and  soon  as  it's  finished  and  furnished  they're  going 
to  be  married  and  move  right  in.  She's  giv'  up  her 
employment,  and  hasn't  got  much  to  do;  so  she  offered 
if  I  would  only  go  along  of  this  young  gentleman 
to  Europe,  how  she  would  keep  house  for  me  until  I 
come  back.  She  is  a  dear,  good  woman  and  deserves 
all  the  prosperity  she  will  have." 

"So  you  need  have  no  anxious  cares  about  the 
house,"  said  Lilith. 

"No,  honey.  And  I  expect  I  shall  feel  right  down 
well  satisfied,  once  I  get  settled.  But  I  was  that 
whirled  around  before  I  started  that  I  hardly  knowed 
what  I  was  doing  of,  or  even  who  I  was.  Now  what 
do  you  think?  When  I  opened  my  trunk  to  get  out 
a  change  of  clothes,  what  do  you  think  I  found  out!" 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Lilith,  smiling. 

"Well,  I  found  that  I  had  left  behind  my  Sunday 
gown — that  black  silk  gown  as  I  have  worn  to  church 
more  years  than  I  remember." 

"That  was  unlucky;  but  never  mind;  you  must  have 
a  new  one.  Silk  is  cheap  in  Paris." 

"Yes,  honey,  but  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it.     In- 


LILITH 

stead  of  my  own  Sunday  gown,  what  do  you  think 
I  had  packed  away  in  my  trunk?" 

"A  common  gown?" 

"No,  child!  But  poor,  dear,  young  Brother  Bur- 
ney's  best  black  trousers,  as  I  had  taken  out'n  his 
room  that  very  morning  to  clean  for  him,  with  ben- 
zine. And  what  he'll  do  for  a  decent  pair  to  wear 
to  church,  I  don't  know;  for  he's  only  got  one  more 
pair,  and  they  are  patched  awful,  so  as  when  the 
wind  blows — well,  I  have  to  pin  the  flaps  of  his  coat 
together.  'Deed  I  am  mons'ous  sorry  I  took  his 
trousers.  I  hope  he  will  never  s'picion  as  I  pawned 
'em  or  anything." 

"Of  course  he  won't.  But  who  is  Brother  Bur- 
ney?"  inquired  Lilith. 

"Oh,  a  hopeful  young  brother  as  is  studying  for 
the  ministry.  He  has  got  the  little  teenty  room  at 
the  end  of  the  passage  in  the  third  story.  And  I 
reckon  he's  very  poor.  Ah  me!  I  am  sorry  about 
them  there  trousers." 

Here  Lilith  bent  and  whispered  to  Aunt  Sophie: 
"We  could  send  him,  anonymously,  a  letter  of  credit 
for  fifty  or  a  hundred  dollars,  to  get  him  a  complete 
outfit." 

"Could  we,  now?  Without  letting  him  know  where 
it  comes  from?  Without  hurting  his  feelings?  For 
it's  very  hard  to  be  beholden,  you  know.  Hard  for 
a  gentleman,  let  alone  how  poor  he  may  be." 

"We  can  fix  it,  Aunt  Sophie;  a  letter  shall  go  out 
to  him  this  very  day.  And  now  I  want  you  to  come 
into  ray  room  and  take  off  your  bonnet.  You  will, 
I  am  sure,  excuse  us,"  said  Lilith,  turning  with  a  smile 
to  the  senor. 

"I  will  go  back  to  the  hotel,  where  I  have  some 
business  to  attend  to.  I  will  call  later  to  pay  my 
respects  to  Madame  Von  Bruyin,"  said  Zuniga,  as  he 
arose  and  prepared  to  leave. 


LILITH  213 

"But — hadn't  I  better  be  going,  too?  The  baroness 
might  think  I  was  intruding,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  un- 
easily. 

"Indeed  she  will  not!  She  will  be  rejoiced  to  see 
you.  She  commissioned  me  to  write  to  you,  and  urge 
you  to  come  over  to  us." 

"She  did?"  cried  Aunt  Sophie,  in  amazement. 

"Indeed  she  did!  I  was  to  have  written  to  you  this 
very  day,  as  I  told  you.  Come,  now,  into  mj  room 
and  take  off  your  bonnet  and  consider  yourself  quite 
at  home;  for  I  know  the  baroness  will  not  allow  you 
to  return  to  the  hotel,"  said  Lilith. 

"I  will  bid  you  good-morning,"  said  the  senor, 
bowing. 

"Stay — one  moment!  Will  you  now  release  me  from 
my  promise?  May  I  now  tell  the  secret?"  demanded 
Lilith,  in  an  eager  whisper. 

"Yes!  You  might  have  given  it  to  the  winds,  had 
you  chosen,  on  the  day  that  you  read  Estel's  confes- 
sion. You  might  have  known  then  that  it  would  be 
quite  safe  to  do  so." 

"Yes,  but  I  had  not  then  been  released  from  my 
promise." 

"That,  my  child,  shows  a  morbid  conscientiousness 
in  you.  You  were  morally  released  from  the  moment 
that  I  was  vindicated.  Good-morning,  my  brave  girl! 
I  will  see  you  later!  By  the  way,  though — where  is 
your  husband?"  he  suddenly  stopped  to  ask. 

"Still  at  the  Court  of  ,  I  think,  where  he  has 

been  Secretary  of  Legation  for  nearly  two  years." 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  him?". 

"Never." 

"Does  he  know  that  you  are  living?" 

"I  think  not." 

"Then  I  exonerate  him.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say 
to  you,  my  darling,  which  I  must  defer  for  the  present. 
Good-morning  again." 


LILITH 

And  the  senor  bowed  himself  out. 

Lilith  took  Aunt  Sophie's  hand  and  led  her  across 
the  hall  to  a  beautiful  chamber  with  an  alcove. 

She  gave  the  good  woman  a  soft  easy-chair,  and 
then  with  her  own  hands  took  off  her  bonnet  and  her 
shawl,  and  made  her  comfortable. 

"Now,  have  you  been  to  breakfast,  Aunt  Sophie  ?'" 

"Yes,  honey,  at  the  hotel!  And  such  a  breakfast! 
Instead  of  good,  wholesome  tea  and  coffee  and  beef- 
steak, and  buckwheat  cakes,  there  was  wine,  if  you 
believe  me!  And  oranges,  and  grapes,  and  figs,  and 
kickshaws!  And  I  tried  to  be  polite  and  'do  at  Rome 
as  the  Romans  do,'  but  la!  I  tasted  the  wine,  and 
it  tasted  for  all  the  world  like  vinegar  and  water, 
and  sugar  of  lead!  And  I  asked,  please,  mightn't 
I  have  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  the  waiter,  as  they  called 
the  gosling,  or  something  like  that " 

"Wasn't  it  the  gargon?" 

"Yes,  gosoon,  and  he  did  go  soon!  He  was  spry! 
He  asked  me,  'Caffynore  or  caffylay,'  and  I  had  a 
hard  time  to  make  him  understand  that  I  didn't  want 
no  caffy  at  all,  nor  any  other  of  their  foreign  wines, 
but  just  coffee,  and  I  did  get  it  at  last,  just  about 
the  splendidest  cup  of  coffee  as  ever  I  tasted  in  all' 
my  life.  I  would  have  asked  the  gosling  how  they 
made  it;  but,  law!  he  couldn't  understand  more'n  half 
I  said  to  him.  The  ignorance  of  these  foreigners  is 
amazing.  A  'Merican  child  three  years  old  could  have 
understood  what  I  said  better  than  he  did.  But  the}' 
know  how  to  make  good  coffee." 

"But  you  could  not  breakfast  entirely  on  coffee, 
Aunt  Sophie." 

"No,  no,  honey;  but  they  had  good  bread,  too — ex- 
cellent bread,  and  nice  fresh  butter.  And  so,  you 
see,  I  didn't  suffer.  And  they  had  a  number  of  dif- 
ferent sorts  of  stews,  or  hashes,  I  should  call  them, 
but  the  gosling  called  them  awful  hard  names.  They 


LILITH 

smelt  mighty  nice,  all  of  'em,  but  I  was  afeard  to 
ventur'  on  any  of  'em.  I  was  afeard  of  frogs.  And 
that  gosling  was  always  a  sticking  one  or  other  of 
them  stews  under  my  very  nose,  too." 

"Well,  Aunt  Sophie,"  you  need  not  be  afraid  of 
anything  you  may  find  on  our  table,  though  we  have 
a  French  chef." 

"A  French  shay?  That  may  be  good  to  ride  in, 
but  what  has  that  got  to  do  with  cooking,  honey?" 

"I  should  have  said  a  French  cook." 

"Oh,  I  see.    It  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue." 

"Did  you  have  a  fine  voyage,  Aunt  Sophie?" 

"Splendid." 

"And  you  were  not  sea-sick?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  was.  For  two  days  I  was  just  as  sick 
as  if  I  had  taken  an  old-fashioned  dose  of  calomel 
and  jalap.  And  I  think  it  did  me  a  heap  of  good, 
too,  for  after  I  got  over  it  I  was  that  hungry!  In- 
deed, I  was  so  hungry  I  was  ashamed  to  eat  as  much 
as  I  wanted.  And  all  the  rest  of  the  voyage  I  thought 
more  of  eating  than  of  anything  else  in  the  world." 

"When  did  you  reach  Havre?" 

"Yesterday;  and  it  so  happened  as  there  was  a 
train  for  Paris  in  an  hour  afterwards;  so  we  took  that 
train  and  came  right  on,  and  got  here  last  night.  We 
slept  at  that  hotel,  and,  if  you  please  to  believe  me, 
I  had  one  of  the  goslings  for  a  chamber-maid.  I  don't 
like  foreign  ways,  myself." 

"Never  mind,  dear;  you  will  be  more  comfortable 
with  us.  But  now  tell  me,  Aunt  Sophie,  did  you  know 
that  the  senor  was  a  near  relation  of  mine?" 

"What  makes  you  call  him  the  sinner,  honey?  He's 
no  more  of  a  sinner  than  the  rest  of  us,  I  reckon. 
We  are  all  sinners,  for  that  matter." 

"I  said  senor,  Aunt  Sophie,  which  is  all  the  same 
as  if  I  had  said  Sir  or  Mr." 

"Oh!    Well,  I  shall  never  get  used  to  foreign  words. 


216  LILITH 

Yes,  honey,  he  did  tell  me;  but  not  till  he  had  pumped 
me  of  every  single  thing  I  knowed  about  you.  Then, 
to  account  for  his  curiosity,  he  told  me  as  you  was 
a  very  near  and  dear  relative  of  his'n  as  he  had  given 
up  for  dead." 

"How  did  he  come  to  board  at  your  house?  He  is 
not  a  minister  or  a  theological  student." 

"No,  honey;  but  he  do  look  just  like  a  preacher. 
Don't  he,  now?" 

"Perhaps." 

"Well,  my  sign  is  always  out,  you  know,  and  he 
saw  it,  and  wanting  board,  he  stepped  up  and  rang 
the  bell,  like  any  other  applicant.  Anyways,  that's 
how  he  came  into  the  house,  and  he  looked  so  much 
like  a  hopeful  young  minister  of  the  Gospel  that  I 
took  him,  without  once  remembering  to  ask  for  his 
references.  Afterwards  he  happened  to  see  your 
photographs  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  he  took  it  down 
and  gazed  at  it,  and  read  your  writing,  and  seemed 
so  upset  I  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  him.  And 
he  asked  about  one  hundred  questions  about  you,  and 
I  told  him  all  I  knowed.  Then  he  let  on  as  you  was 
a  near  relation  of  his'n,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  she 
settled  herself  comfortably  in  her  chair. 

"Thank  you,  dear  Aunt  Sophie.  And  now  if  you 
will  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,  I  will  go  and  let 
the  baroness  know  that  you  are  here.  She  will  be 
delighted,"  said  Lilith,  rising,  and  leaving  the  room 
to  tell  the  good  news. 


LILITH  217 


ANCILLON  S   REVELATIONS 

Doubt  is  the  effect  of  fear  or  jealousy, 

Two  passions  which  to  reason  give  the  lie; 

For  fear  torments  and  never  doth  assist; 

And  jealousy  is  love  lost  in  a  mist. 

Both  hoodwink  truth  and  play  at  blind  man's  buff, 

Cry  "Here"  and  "There,"  seem  quite  direct  enough;.1 

But  all  the  while  shift  place,  making  the  mind, 

As  it  gets  out  of  breath,  despair  to  find; 

Or  if  at  last  something  it  stumbles  on, 

Perhaps  it  calls  it  false,  and  then  'tis  gone. 

If  true,  what's  gained?   Only  just  time  to  see 

A  breathless  play — a  game  of  fantasy 

That  has  no  other  end  than  this:  that  men 

Run  to  be  tired,  just  to  sit  down  again. 

Anon. 

AUNT  SOPHIE,  left  to  herself,  got  up  with  a  childish 
curiosity  to  look  around  on  the  elegant  chamber  to 
which  she  had  been  introduced — the  furniture  all 
made  of  some  wood  that  looked  like  ivory,  and  up- 
holstered in  rose  satin  and  white  lace. 

"Too  fine  to  live  in,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
stood  before  the  beautifully  draped  dressing-table, 
with  its  broad  and  tall  mirror  filling  up  all  the  space 
between  the  two  front  windows,  and  curtained,  like 
them,  with  rose  silk  and  white  lace,  and  with  its  toilet 
service  of  Bohemian  glass  and  gold. 

She  turned  from  this  to  the  richly  festooned  alcove, 
in  which  stood  the  luxurious  bedstead,  and  from  that 
view  to  the  inviting  chairs  and  lounges,  her  wonder 
and  admiration  growing  with  all  that  she  saw. 

She  was  still  moving  around,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Lilith  appeared,  ushering  in  the  baroness — Lilith 


218  LILITH 

in  her  simple  black  silk  dress,  and  Madame  Von 
Bruyin  in  an  elegant  negligee  of  pale  mauve  velvet, 
edged  with  swan's-down. 

She  advanced  to  Aunt  Sophie  with  smiling  eyes  and 
outstretched  hands,  exclaiming  brightly: 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Downie!  I  am  so  rejoiced  to  see 
you!  You  have  come  to  us  so  opportunely!  How 
opportunely  you  shall  soon  know.  Why,  only  to-day  we 
were  to  write  to  you  and  ask  you  to  come.  You  have 
only  anticipated  our  very  great  desire  to  see  you." 

"Indeed  you  are  very  good  to  say  so,  ma'am,  I'm 
sure.  It  was  the  sinner  who  made  me  come,  whether 
or  no;  and  I  was  so  awful  'fraid  I  was  intruding,"  said 
the  child-like  old  lady,  in  simple  truth,  as  she  placed 
both  her  plump  little  hands  in  the  warm,  welcoming 
clasp  of  her  hostess. 

"You  are  looking  so  well;  and  Lilith  tells  me  you 
had  a  fine  voyage." 

"Yes,  thank  you,  ma'am;  I  had  an  awful  fine  voy- 
age, considering  the  season  of  the  year;  and  it  done 
me  a  heap  of  good." 

"I  can  see  that  it  has.  Sit  down  now  and  let  us 
be  comfortable,"  said  the  baroness,  drawing  one  of 
the  luxurious  chairs  nearer  to  Aunt  Sophie,  who 
smiled  and  bowed  in  a  deprecating  little  way  before 
she  took  it. 

When  they  were  all  seated  near  what  seemed  to  bo 
a  beautiful  vase,  but  what  was  in  reality  the  porce- 
lain stove  that  heated  the  room,  Aunt  Sophie  broke 
out  in  child-like  admiration: 

"I  never  seen  a  stove  like  this  in  all  my  life  before. 
I  didn't  think  as  they  could  make  stoves  out'n  any- 
thing but  iron." 

"We  don't  have  them  in  our  own  country,"  said 
Lilith.  "At  least  I  never  saw  one." 

The  baroness  smiled,  and  then  changed  the  sub- 
ject by  asking  Aunt  Sophie  about  the  health  and  wijl- 


LILITH  219 

fare  of  her  inmates,  and  the  prosperity  of  her  house. 
And  the  old  lady  answered  with  simple  truth,  relat- 
ing all  about  the  poor  young  theological  student 
whose  only  pair  of  Sunday  trousers  she  had  inad- 
vertently brought  away;  and  all  about  the  coming 
marriage  of  her  favorite  boarder,  Mrs.  Farquier,  and 
Elder  Perkins,  of  their  church. 

The  baroness  listened  with  sympathetic  attention, 
and  after  a  few  more  cordial  words  of  congratulation 
or  of  inquiry,  the  lady  said: 

"Now,  Mrs.  Downie,  you  will  please  tell  me  the 
name  of  the  hotel  you  stopped  at,  so  that  I  may  send 
and  have  your  effects  brought  hither." 

"The  hotel  where  I  stopped,  ma'am?"  said  Aunt 
Sophie,  with  a  slightly  puzzled  air. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Downie;  I  wish  to  know  so  that  I  may 
send  for  your  trunk." 

"Why,  it  was  the  same  place  where  the  sinner  is 
stopping!" 

"But  where  is  that,  my  dear  friend?  What  is  its 
name?"  smilingly  inquired  Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

"The  hotel — le'  me  see,  now — what  was  the  name 
of  that  hotel  ag'in?  The  sinner  did  tell  me;  but 
there!  my  poor  head  has  been  in  that  whirl  ever  since 
I  was  snatched  away  so  suddenly  and  fetched  over 
here  that  I  declare  to  man  I  haven't  got  no  memory 
left!  I  ought  to  remember  that  name,  too,  'cause 
it  sounded  for  all  the  world  like  a  name  in  a  ballad 
or  a  fairy  story,  and  as  if  it  might  'a'  been  the  palace 
of  the  fairy  queen  or  the  enchanted  princess.  What 
was  it,  ag'in?  Oh!  I  know.  It  was  the  Hotel  of  Love, 
on  the  Kue  River.  That's  what  it  was.  Now  ain't 
that  just  like  a  place  in  a  ballad  or  a  fairy  story?" 
inquired  Aunt  Sophie,  with  a  smile.  "Just  fancy  it! 
The  Hotel  of  Love  on  the  Rue  River!" 

The  baroness  looked  helplessly  and  hopelessly  per- 
plexed. 


220  LILITH 

"The  Hotel  du  Louvre,  Eue  de  Kivoli,"  suggested 
Lilith,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Oh,  certainly!  I  see!  Touch  the  bell,  if  you  please, 
my  dear,"  said  Madame  Von  Bruyin. 

Lilith  complied,  and  the  baroness  gave  her  instruc- 
tions to  the  servant  that  answered  the  summons. 

"And  now,  my  dear,"  said  the  lady,  rising  to  leave 
the  room,  "I  have  some  papers  to  sign,  and  Mon- 
sieur Le  Grange  is  waiting  for  me.  Make  our  dear 
guest  as  comfortable  as  you  can,  and  here,  my  dear, 
give  her  the  choice  of  the  vacant  chambers  on  the 
other  side." 

And  with  a  smile  and  a  bow  the  beautiful  hostess 
left  the  room. 

"Come,  Aunt  Sophie,  and  select  your  bower!"  said 
Lilith,  playfully,  as  she  arose. 

The  simple-hearted  widow  gathered  her  belongings 
and  prepared  to  follow  her  guide. 

Lilith  led  the  old  lady  across  the  hall  and  opened 
the  door  of  a  chamber  opposite  the  one  they  had  just 
left,  and  introduced  her  into  the  most  elegant  apart- 
ment she  had  ever  seen. 

It  was  upholstered  in  satin-wood,  pale  blue  velvet 
embroidered  with  silver  and  white  lace. 

Aunt  Sophie  hesitated  to  sit  down  in  her  black 
alpaca  gown  on  any  of  the  elegantly  covered  chairs, 
and  feared  to  lay  down  her  black  shawl  and  mashed 
bonnet  anywhere,  lest  they  should  soil  the  delicate 
draperies. 

At  length  Lilith  relieved  her  funny  embarrassment 
by  taking  those  articles  from  her  hands  and  hanging 
them  in  a  handsome  armoire,  the  door  of  which  was 
one  sheet  of  crystal  mirror. 

And  then  the  simple  old  lady  looked  at  the  dress- 
ing table  with  its  draperies  of  pale  blue  velvet  and 
fine  white  la«ce,  and  its  accessories  of  pearl  combs 
and  pearl-handled  brushes,  and  gold  vases,  and 


LILITH 

flagons,  and  thence  to  the  bed  with  its  costly  hang- 
ings of  the  same  velvet  and  lace,  in  such  distressing 
embarrassment  that  Lilith  said  to  her  at  length: 

"Madame  Von  Bruyin  wished  me  to  give  you  your 
choice  of  all  the  vacant  chambers.  If  you  do  not  like 
this  one,  I  can  show  you  a  plainer." 

"Oh,  yes,  please  do,  honey!  This  is  so  awful  grand! 
I  wouldn't  dare  to  sit  down  on  one  of  these  chairs, 
and  as  to  lying  down  in  that  grand  bed — I  couldn't 
dream  of  such  a  thing!  And  that  sounds  so  ungrate- 
ful of  me,  too,  when  the  baroness  is  giving  me  the 
best  of  everything!  But,  honey,  I  ain't  used  to  it, 
and  I  couldn't  get  used  to  it,  and  that  is  the  solemn 
truth,  so  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me,"  said  the  old  lady, 
in  her  soft,  slow,  deprecating  tones. 

"There  is  nothing  in  this  world  too  good  for  you, 
dear  Aunt  Sophie!  There  is  indeed  scarcely  anything 
good  enough  for  you,  we  think,"  said  Lilith,  as  she 
took  the  little  black  bonnet  and  shawl  from  the 
armoire  in  which  she  had  hung  them,  and  led  the  way 
down  the  corridor  to  the  rear  of  the  building  and 
opened  a  door  at  its  extremity,  and  ushering  the  guest 
into  a  pretty,  bright,  fresh  chamber,  furnished  in 
curled  maple  and  gay  chintz. 

"How  do  you  like  this  room?"  inquired  Lilith. 

"Oh!  ever  so  much  better  than  t'other  one!  I  ain't 
afraid  of  hurting  anything  here!" 

"And  you  can  make  yourself  quite  comfortable?" 

"Oh,  yes,  awful  comfortable,  honey." 

"Your  trunks  will  be  here  very  soon,"  said  Lilith, 
as,  still  acting  in  her  role  of  lady's  maid  to  the  visitor, 
she  hung  up  Aunt  Sophie's  bonnet,  shawl  and  hand- 
bag in  the  maple-wood  wardrobe. 

Then  she  sat  down  to  "keep  company"  with  the  old 
lady  until  her  boxes  should  arrive  to  give  her  some 
employment. 

"I  hope  you  will  tell  the  baroness  that  I  ralely 


222  LILITH 

didn't  expect  this!  I  ralely  didn't  mean  to  intrude. 
I  only  come  this  morning  with  the  sinner  to  call  and 
pay  my  respects  to  the  baroness  and  see  you,  honey, 
and  then  go  back  to  the  Hotel  of  Love.  I  never 
would  have  presumed  to  come  and  set  down  on  you 
all  without  an  invitation,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  in  a  soft, 
slow,  deprecating  tone. 

Lilith  went  and  kissed  her  gently  before  replying: 

"You  did  not  come  without  an  invitation,  and  a 
very  pressing  one.  You  cannot  doubt  how  pleased 
Madame  Von  Bruyin  is  to  see  you,  or  how  happy  I 
am  to  have  you  here." 

"I  know  you  are  all  awful  good  to  me.  I  know 
that,"  said  Aunt  Sophie. 

A  little  later  on  her  trunk  arrived  and  was  brought 
up  into  her  room,  and  Aunt  Sophie  made  the  best  of 
her  limited  wardrobe  to  dress  for  dinner. 

Simple  as  any  child,  she  accepted  all  the  aid  that 
Lilith  could  give  her,  even  obediently  submitting  to 
have  her  unruly  hair  "fixed,"  and  to  wear  the  pretty 
little  lace  cap,  fichu  and  cuffs  that  Lilith's  deft 
fingers  constructed  from  her  own  materials. 

Aunt  Sophie  liked  herself  in  this  new  dress,  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  say  so. 

The  dinner  that  followed  soon  was  served  in  what 
was  known  in  the  maison  as  the  petit  salon.  There 
was  no  one  present  but  Madame  Von  Bruyin,  Lilith, 
Mrs.  Downie  and  Monsieur  Le  Grange,  whom  Aunt 
Sophie  mistook  for  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  ever 
after  referred  to  as  the  old  minister. 

Lilith  saw  no  more  of  Mr.  Alfred  Ancillon,  or 
Sefior  Zuniga,  during  that  day. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  the  baroness 
went  out  shopping  as  usual,  but  excused  Lilith  from 
attending  her,  and  took  Aunt  Sophie  instead,  "to 
show  her  the  shops,"  as  she  said. 

They  had  not  left  the  house  more  than  half  an  hour, 


LILITH 

when  a  card  was  brought  to  Lilith  bearing  the  name, 
SENOR  ZUNIGA. 

And  Lilith  went  down  into  the  small  drawing-room 
to  receive  him  alone. 

"Madame  Von  Bruyin  has  gone  out  and  has  taken 
Mrs.  Downie  with  her,"  said  Lilith,  when  their  mutual 
greetings  had  passed. 

"Ah!  I  am  glad!  Well  as  I  like  the  beautiful 
baroness  and  the  good  Aunt  Sophie,  I  can  dispense 
with  their  society  this  morning,  for  I  wish  to  talk 
with  you  alone,"  he  said,  seating  himself  by  her  side 
on  the  sofa.  "I  told  you  yesterday  that  I  had  much 
to  say  to  you." 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"Hereward,  you  say,  is  still  at  the  Court  of ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  yet  you  have  never  heard  from  him?" 

"No." 

"He  does  not  know  that  you  are  living?" 

"No." 

"Well,  neither  did  I  until  an  accident  revealed  your 
continued  existence  to  me.  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
that  by  and  by.  Now  I  tell  you,  Lilith,  that  he  must 
learn  the  truth." 

"Oh,  no!  no!  Do  not  bring  me  in  any  way  to  his 
notice,"  she  pleaded,  clasping  her  hands  and  fixing 
her  eyes  upon  him  in  the  earnestness  of  her  entreaty. 

"But  why  not,  now  that  you  are  able  to  clear  up 
the  mystery  that  separated  you?"  demanded  Zuniga, 
in  astonishment. 

"Oh,  because  he  does  not  love  me.  He  never 
loved  me!  He  told  me  so  with  his  own  lips,"  moaned 
Lilith,  wringing  her  hands. 

"No  heroics,  if  you  please,  child.  I  get  quite  enough 
of  them  on  the  stage.  I  hate  them  off  it.  But  tell 
me,  in  a  matter  of  fact  way,  did  you  really  believe 
him  when  he  said  that?" 


224.  LILITH 

"Oh,  yes!  Oh,  yes!  For  he  spoke  in  the  most  bitter, 
scornful,  insulting  manner.  He  said  that  he  should 
leave  the  house,  never  to  return  while  I  desecrated 
it  with  my  presence.  Desecrated  it,  mind.  That  was 
what  drove  me  away,  and  what  will  keep  me  away 
from  him,"  she  wailed,  twisting  her  hands  together. 

"Pray  don't  be  melodramatic,  Lilith,  my  dear.  I  am 
so  tired  of  that  sort  of  thing  that  I  have  left  the  stage 
forever,  I  hope.  But  tell  me  quietly  and  sensibly 
when  and  under  what  circumstances  Hereward  talked 
such  very  objectionable  nonsense." 

"It  was  on  that  fatal  twenty-first  of  March 
when " 

"There  you  go  again.  There  was  nothing  fatal 
about  it.  However,  proceed." 

"It  was  on  the  twenty-first  of  March,  then,  that 
he  came  down  suddenly  to  Cloud  Cliffs.  That  letter 
which  you  had  written  to  me  had  fallen  into  his  hands, 
and  he  rushed  down  to  Cloud  Cliffs,  just  as  I  feared 
he  would,  in  a " 

"Deuce  of  a  rage.  Quite  natural  under  the  circum- 
stances. Well?" 

"He  came  in  just  after  I  had  read  your  last  letter, 
which  was  even  more  compromising  than  your  first, 
and  as  I  was  about  to  drop  it  into  the  fire  he  seized 
it  from  me " 

"Very  rude  of  him." 

"And  he  read  it." 

"Quite  so.  It  was  what  we  should  have  expected 
of  him.  Proceed." 

"And  then But,  oh,  indeed,  I  cannot  describe 

the  scene  that  followed." 

"You  needn't.  I  can  see  it  all.  The  fat  was  in 
the  fire.  There  was  a  fiz,  a  blaze,  a  conflagration!" 

"I  cannot  blame  him  for  his  anger  then.  The  cir- 
cumstances were  so  criminating.  He  demanded  an 
explanation,  but  I  could  give  him  none  without  be- 


LILITH  225 

traying  your  secret,  which  I  was  sworn  to  keep.  It 
ended,  as  I  told  you,  in  his  declaring  that  he  did  not 
love  me,  congratulating  himself  that  he  had  never 
fallen  into  the  deep  degradation  of  loving  me,  and 
Diving  that  he  would  leave  the  house,  never  to  re- 
turn while  I  should  desecrate  it  with  my  presence." 

"Very  melodramatic,  and  consequently  very  non- 
sensical, as  all  heroics  are  off  the  stage.  And  you 
believed  him?" 

"Yes;  for  I  left  the  house  that  night." 

"And  you  still  believe  him,  eh?" 

"Yes;  for  I  will  never  make  known  my  existence  to 
him." 

"  What  a  baby  you  must  be,  Lilith,  to  believe  all 
the  ravings  of  a  man  maddened  by  jealousy.  Why, 
child!  you  were  no  sooner  gone  than  he  'sought  you 
sorrowing'  all  over  the  country.  A  month  later  the 
body  of  a  poor,  unfortunate  young  woman  who  once 
belonged  to  our  troupe,  and  was  the  wife  of  a  man 
who  sometimes  acted  under  my  name,  was  found  in 
the  woods  in  such  a  state  of  decomposition  that  it 
could  not  be  recognized;  but  it  was  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  your  clothes,  which  were  readily  enough  identi- 
fied by  all  your  servants,  so  that  the  sapient  coroner's 
jury  who  sat  upon  the  remains  brought  in  a  verdict 
that — 'Lilith  Hereward  came  to  her  death  by  a  blow 
on  the  b?ck  of  her  head  from  some  blunt  instrument 
held  in  the  hand  of  some  person  unknown  to  the  jury.' 
When  Hereward  learned  this  verdict  he  fell  like  a 
slaughtered  ox;  and  he  knew  no  more  of  life  for 
weeks " 

"Oh!"  cried  Lilith,  involuntarily. 

"In  the  meantime,  I,  out  in  California,  knew  noth- 
ing of  what  was  going  on  in  West  Virginia  until  a 
month  after  that  coroner's  inquest — until  one  day  I 
met  with  an  old  copy  of  the  Pursuivant,  in  which  I 
read  a  full  account  of  your  supposed  fate.  Then, 


226  LILITH 

my  child,  I  understood,  or  thought  I  understood, 
what  had  happened — that  jour  death  had  been  caused, 
directly  or  indirectly,  by  the  jealous  rage  of  your 
husband;  and  I  threw  up  my  engagement  and  traveled 
as  fast  as  steam  could  take  me  to  West  Virginia  and 
to  the  presence  of  Tudor  Hereward.  I  found  him  the 
mere  shadow  of  his  former  self." 

Lilith  moaned. 

"But  I  did  not  pity  him  in  the  least!  I  bitterly 
upbraided  him  for  having  been  the  cause  of  your 
death,  as  I  fully  believed  him  to  have  been.  I  ana 
afraid  I  even  became  melodramatic  over  it  all,  which 
was  very  unprofessional  off  the  stage,  you  know. 
He  never  sought  to  excuse  or  defend  himself.  Still 
I  had  no  mercy  on  him.  I  rubbed  it  into  him.  To 
deepen  his  remorse  for  his  wrong  to  you,  I  gave  him 
the  secret!  What  cared  I  then  for  any  consequences 
to  myself?  I  gave  him  the  secret!" 

"What!  You  told — you  told  him — who  you  were!" 
exclaimed  Lilith. 

"No,  I  did  better  than  that.  He  might  not  have 
believed  my  word.  I  told  him  nothing.  But  I  directed 
him  to  the  papers  in  the  old  trunk  for  all  informa- 
tion and  all  proof.  And  then  I  left  him  and  went 
to  the  village  hotel  and  waited  for  events.  But  noth- 
ing happened,  and  at  last  I  heard  that  he  had  gone 
to  Washington  to  accept  some  foreign  mission  that 
had  been  offered  him.  Then  I  also  left  the  neigh- 
borhood and  went  to  the  Southwest.  I  took  no  fur- 
ther pains  to  conceal  my  identity;  yet  no  evil  hap- 
pened to  me.  No  requisition  under  the  extradition 
treaty  was  made  for  me.  But,  Lilith,  my  child,  you 
are  cleared  from  suspicion  in  the  eyes  of  your  hus- 
band. He  has  the  secret!" 

"Oh,  no,  he  has  not!"  exclaimed  Lilith.  "He  has 
not!  For  those  papers  to  which  you  referred  him 


LILITH  227 

for  information  were  not  in  the  house!  I  brought 
them  away  with  me  when  I  left  Cloud  Cliffs." 

"You  brought  them  away  with  you!" 

"Yes,  for  I  would  not  leave  them  there  to  endanger 
you.  So,  you  see,  he  does  not  yet  know  that  I  am 
innocent." 

"I  am  sorry  that  he  did  not  find  the  papers.  But, 
Lilith,  my  darling,  he  does  know  that  you  are  inno- 
cent. He  came  to  his  senses  from  the  very  day  in 
which  he  lost  you.  All  that  I  heard  about  him  in  his 
own  neighborhood  proved  his  profound  sorrow  at  your 
loss  and  his  faith  in  your  integrity." 

"And  yet  he  told  me " 

"Never  mind  what  he  told  you.  He  wa&  mad  with 
jealousy  then,  and  his  words  must  not  be  remembered. 
He  loves  you,  I  am  sure.  He  always  loved  you.  I 
tell  you  this — I  who  know  something  of  human 
nature." 

"Oh,  if  I  thought  so!    Oh,  if  I  thought  so!" 

"Now,  now,  now,  now,  don't  be  stagey!  Here  ward 
loves  you  devotedly.  I  was  sure  of  it  when  I  talked 
with  him  of  you.  It  was  not  only  remorse  for  his 
cruel  suspicions,  but  sorrow  for  your  loss,  that  was 
almost  driving  him  mad!" 

"He  had  but  little  cause  for  remorse  about  his  sus- 
picions. The  circumstances  were  so  criminating." 

"And  your  life  and  character  so  vindicating." 

"Was  it  accident  that  led  you  to  Aunt  Sophie's 
house?"  inquired  Lilith  at  last. 

"Yes  and  no.  I  will  explain.  After  I  had  made 
a  short  theatrical  tour  in  the  Territories  I  came  East 
and  to  New  York.  I  was  so  reckless  that  I  did  not 
care  what  might  become  of  me.  I  was  on  Broadway 
one  day,  when  I  saw  your  picture  in  a  photographer's 
show-case.  I  did  not  then  connect  it  with  any  idea 
that  you  were  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  but 
fancied  that  it  was  a  photograph  that  might  have 


228  LILITH 

been  taken  for  your  foster-father,,  the  summer  before 
your  marriage  when  you  were  on  your  last  trip  with 
him." 

"No,  it  was  taken  just  before  I  sailed  from  New 
York,  for  Aunt  Sophie.  She  wanted  a  picture  of  me, 
and  she  took  me  to  a  photographer  who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  her  church  and  for  whom  one  of  her  lady 
boarders  colored  the  photographs,"  Lilith  explained. 

"So  I  learned  later.  Having  no  picture  of  you, 
my  darling,  and  wishing  to  possess  one,  I  went  in  to 
the  artist  and  asked  to  buy  a  copy.  He  told  me 
that  he  could  not  sell  one  without  permission  from 
the  customer  who  had  had  the  photograph  taken.  I 
told  him  that  the  customer  and  the  original  of  the 
picture  were  both  dead.  At  this  he  stared  and  said 
that  he  guessed  not,  unless  they  had  died  very  re- 
cently. And  then  the  artist  told  me  that  the  pic- 
tures had  been  taken  by  the  order  of  an  old  lady 
friend  of  his  own,  and  of  a  young  girl  boarding  in 
her  house  then,  but  now  away  to  Europe.  Still  I 
had  no  suspicion  that  they  represented  my  living 
Lilith,  but  believed  the  likeness  to  be  an  accidental 
one,  though  so  good  that  I  wished  to  possess  a  copy. 
So  I  requested  the  artist  to  give  me  the  address  of  the 
customer  for  whom  they  had  been  taken.  He  very 
readily  obliged  me.  I  went  to  Mrs.  Downie's  house 
the  same  day.  Seeing  her  sign  out,  I  requested  the 
girl  who  answered  my  ring  to  take  my  card  to  her 
mistress.  While  I  was  waiting  in  the  parlor  I  saw 
your  photograph  on  the  mantelpiece.  I  took  it  down 
and  examined  it  minutely,  a  faint  suspicion  coming 
like  hope  into  my  heart  that  it  might  be  yours  after 
all.  I  turned  to  the  back  and  read  the  inscription, 
'To  Aunt  Sophie,  with  the  love  of  Lilith,'  or  some- 
thing to  that  effect.  My  child,  I  am  not  given  to 
wild  emotion — off  the  stage — and  yet  I  was  so  over- 
come with  joy  and  fear  that  I  dropped  upon  a  chair, 


LILITH  229 

and  had  some  trouble  to  compose  myself  before  the 
landlady  came  in.  But  in  that  short  space  of  time 
I  had  resolved  to  take  board  in  the  house,  if  possible, 
in  order  to  find  out  all  about  you.  So  when  Aunt 
Sophie  came  in  I  broached  the  subject  of  board  and 
lodging,  and  the  good  creature  consented  to  receive 
me." 

"Yes,  she  wrote  to  me  about  that,"  said  Lilith. 

"But  I  governed  my  strong  anxiety  and  refrained 
from  asking  her  questions  about  the  original  of  that 
photograph  for  a  few  hours,  and  then  began  cau- 
tiously to  examine  her.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I 
learned  all  she  knew  of  you." 

"Did  you  return  the  confidence,  and  supplement  her 
small  knowledge  of  my  antecedents  by  telling  her  all 
you  knew  of  me?"  inquired  Lilith. 

"Only  by  saying  that  you  were  a  very  near  and 
dear  relative  of  mine." 

"So  much  she  herself  wrote  to  me;  but  she  wrote 
of  you  as  Mr.  Ancillon,  and  yet  she  speaks  of  you  as 
Senor  Zuniga " 

"Yes.  I  took  board  with  her  as  Alfred  Ancillon. 
I  did  not  wish,  in  the  case  of  my  arrest  under  the 
extradition  tready,  to  bring  an  old  and  proud  name 
into  that  connection.  And  so  it  was  not  until  after 
I  had  seen  your  advertisement,  and  searched  the 
files  of  the  Pursuivant  and  discovered  my  full  vindi- 
cation from  that  imputed  crime,  that  I  determined  to 
resume  my  own  name.  When  we  were  once  on  board 
the  steamer,  I  told  Mrs.  Downie  that  Ancillon  was 
only  my  professional  name,  by  which  I  think  she 
understood  that  I  was  a  literary  man  writing  under 
that  nomme  de  plume,  but  that  my  true  name  was 
Zuniga.  You  look  very  much  astonished,  Lilith." 

"I  am  astonished.  I  have  been  wondering  in  a  state 
of  the  deepest  perplexity  over  that  whole  matter!" 
exclaimed  Lilith. 


LILITH 

"Wondering  why  I  called  myself  Zuniga?" 

"Yes." 

"Why,  my  dear,  because  of  all  my  names,  profes- 
sional or  otherwise,  that  is  the  one  to  which  I  have 
the  best  right." 

"Were  you — were  you,  then — were  you " 

"The  Seiior  Zuniga  of  Washington  society?" 

"Yes." 

"Of  course  I  was.  You  recognized  me  at  first  sight, 
and  so  also  did  Hereward,  as  I  saw  by  your  amazed 
looks,  although  afterwards  you  were  both  persuaded 
that  you  were  only  deceived  by  a  very  striking  like- 
ness." 

"Yes,  we  were.  For  we  knew  you  as  Mr.  Ancillon, 
and  believed  the  professional  announcement  that  you 
had  gone  to  California " 

"When  my  stage  name  loaned  to  another  member 
of  the  troupe  alone  had  gone." 

"But  believing  as  we  did,  how  could  we  imagine 
you  to  be  identical  with  Sefior  Zuniga,  the  nephew 
of  the  P minister?  Even  now  I  cannot  under- 
stand it" 

"But  you  will  when  I  tell  you  the  whole  of  my 
story,  Lilith." 

"And  you  acted  your  part  so  well!  When  you 
were  introduced  to  us  you  looked  so  sublimely  indif- 
ferent and  unconscious  of  ever  having  seen  us  before. 
And,  besides,  though  you  looked  so  nearly  identical 
with  Alfred  Ancillon,  there  were  really  striking  points 
of  dissimilarity." 

Sefior  Zuniga  broke  into  one  of  his  wild  laughs,  and 
then  said  : 

"Exactly!  Precisely!  There  were  striking  points  of 
dissimilarity.  When  I  dropped  my  stage  name  and 
character,  and  took  up  my  real  ones,  I  made  no  coarse 
disguise  of  other  colored  hair  or  complexion.  Not  at 
all.  I  just  gave  the  ends  of  my  very  peculiar  and 


LILITH  231 

characteristic  eyebrows  a  quarter  of  an  inch's  twist 
upward  instead  of  downward,  with  the  aid  of  a 
camel's  hair  brush  and  a  little  Indian  ink,  and  the 
ends  of  my  mustache  a  corresponding  droop  down- 
ward instead  of  upward,  and  the  character  of  my 
countenance  and  expression  was  changed.  This,  with 
my  'sublime  unconsciousness'  of  which  you  spoke,  your 
prepossessed  idea  that  I  had  gone  to  California, 
en  route  for  Australia,  together  with  the  utter  im- 
probability that  Alfred  Ancillon,  the  strolling  player, 
should  have  anything  in  common  with  Sefior  Zuniga, 

the  nephew  of  the  P minister,  completed  the 

illusion." 

"It  did,  indeed." 

"And  so,  my  child,  as  Sefior  Zuniga,  I  enjoyed  op- 
portunities of  conversing  with  you  such  as  I  should 
never  have  been  permitted  to  do  as  Alfred  Ancillon." 

"But  now  you  are  forever  Zuniga?" 

"Yes,  forever  Zuniga." 

"And  as  the  baroness  may  return  before  you  leave, 
I  must  present  you  to  her — by  what  name?" 

"By  my  true  name,  of  course.  By  the  only  name 
— now  that  my  character  is  cleared  from  the  faintest 
shadow  of  reproach — by  which  I  shall  henceforth  be 
known — Zuniga." 

They  talked  on  for  an  hour  longer,  asking  and  an- 
swering questions,  but  Zuniga  was  reticent  about  one 
matter — his  right  to  the  name  he  claimed. 

"I  will  tell  you  later,  Lilith,"  was  all  the  explana- 
tion that  he  would  give  of  his  reserve. 

\Yhile  they  were  still  talking,  the  door  of  the  draw- 
ing-room swung  open  and  the  baroness,  accompanied 
by  Aunt  Sophie,  entered  the  room. 

Lilith  and  her  visitor  arose  to  receive  them. 

"Madame  Von  Bruyin,"  said  Lilith,  addressing  her 
patroness  with  a  slight  gesture  of  her  hand  towards 


232  LILITH 

her  visitor,  "please  permit  me  to  present  to  you  the 
Senor  Zuniga,  my  father." 

The  gentleman  bowed  profoundly;  the  lady  gra- 
ciously, saying: 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  senor.  Your  daughter  is  a 
dear  young  friend  of  mine.  Pray  resume  your  seat.  I 
hope  that  you  will  favor  us  with  your  company  at 
luncheon." 

"I  thank  you,  madame,  I  shall  be  very  happy,"  re- 
plied the  senor,  with  another  bow. 

But  there  was  one  figure  in  the  group  that  stood 
transfixed,  staring  with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open, 
then  muttering: 

"Why — why — why — I  didn't  know — why — why — 
why " 

But  she  could  get  no  further. 

Lilith  went  and  put  her  arms  around  the  old  lady's 
neck,  and  murinured,  softly: 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie,  he  is  my  dear  father.  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  by  and  by." 

"But — how  come  he,  the  sinner,  to  be  your  father?" 
inquired  the  dazed  old  lady. 

Lilith  laughed,  and  answered: 

"I  suppose  because  he  married  my  mother." 

The  luncheon  bell  rang,  and  the  baroness  requested 
Senor  Zuniga  to  give  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Downie. 

At  this  moment  Monsieur  Le  Grange  joined  the 
group  and  was  informally  introduced  to  the  Senor 
Zuniga. 

The  whole  party  then  moved  to  the  small  salon, 
where  the  luncheon  table  was  spread,  and  where 
Madame  Von  Bruyin's  liveried  servants  were  in  at- 
tendance. 

The  light  meal  passed  off  very  pleasantly — the  senor 
being  more  than  usually  brilliant  in  sparkling  wit 
and  anecdote. 

Soon  after  their  return  to  the  drawing-room  Zuniga 


LILITH  233 

took  leave,  pleading  that  he  had  to  run  down  to  Calais 
that  night  to  catch  the  earliest  boat  to  Dover,  but 
that  he  hoped  to  be  in  Paris  again  within  a  few  days. 
As  soon  as  he  was  gone  the  baroness  wras  eloquent 
in  his  praise.  She  commended  his  dark  beauty,  grace, 
elegance  of  person,  his  brilliancy  in  conversation  and 
so  forth. 


UNEXPECTED  MEETING  AT  A  WEDDING 

WITHIN  a  week  from  the  day  of  his  departure  the 
Seiior  Zuniga  returned  to  Paris. 

He  found  such  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  baroness, 
that  he  became  an  habitue  of  the  house. 

They  were,  indeed,  often  closeted  together  in  long 
interviews  that  set  Aunt  Sophie  and  Lilith  to  specu- 
lating. 

"I  think  it  is  something  about  you,  honey.  Indeed, 
I  feel  sure  of  it!"  said  the  old  lady  to  her  young 
favorite;  and  in  fact  she  was  right,  as  the  event 
proved. 

Aunt  Sophie  herself  had  grown  to  be  more  and  more 
of  a  favorite  with  every  member  of  the  family. 

The  baroness,  without  consulting  her  companion, 
had  put  the  old  lady  in  possession  of  much  of  Lilith's 
history  that  had  hitherto  been  kept  from  her. 

Madame  Von  Bruyin  had  also  explained  to  Mrs. 
Downie  that  she  should  remain  at  the  house  as  com- 
panion and  protectress  to  Lilith  while  the  soon-to-be- 
wedded  couple  should  be  on  their  wedding  tour. 

And  Aunt  Sophie,  with  many  deprecating  sighs  and 
self-disparaging  disclaimers,  had  finally  consented  to 
do  so. 

"And  while  we  are  gone,  Monsieur  Le  Grange  and 


234  LILITH 

Lilith  can  show  you  all  the  wonders  of  Paris  and  its 
environs,"  Madame  Von  Bruyin  added,  as  an  induce- 
ment or  a  consolation. 

"I  am  sure  I  have  already  seen  more  than  I  ever 
expected  to  see  in  all  the  days  of  my  life,"  said  the 
old  lady,  with  simple  candor. 

Preparations  for  the  marriage  went  steadily  on. 

Paris  was  beginning  to  fill  with  fashionables,  re- 
turning from  the  sea-shore  or  mountain  height.  The 
wedding  cards  were  out.  Some  of  the  most  unique 
jewels  and  costumes  prepared  for  the  occasion  were 
on  exhibition  in  the  show-cases  of  the  most  recherche 
bazaars. 

The  public  journals  were  sparkling  with  descrip- 
tions of  the  costly  presents  in  course  of  preparation. 

The  Prince  Gherardini  had  arrived  in  town  and 
taken  apartments  at  the  Grand  Hotel  du  Louvre. 

The  princely  wedding  was  to  be  the  opening  event 
of  the  season. 

The  two  sisters  of  the  prince,  the  Princesses  Bianca 
and  Julietta,  were  to  be  the  first  and  second  brides- 
maids, and  six  young  ladies,  selected  from  the  most 
noble  families  of  the  French  capital,  were  to  complete 
the  bridal  retinue. 

On  Monday  of  the  last  week  in  November,  a  small 
party  collected  in  the  little  salon  of  the  maison  to  wit- 
ness the  signing  of  the  marriage  contract. 

This  party  consisted  of  the  Baroness  Von  Bruyin, 
Monsieur  Le  Grange,  Lilith  Hereward,  Senor  Zunigu 
and  Mrs.  Downie,  on  the  part  of  the  bride  elect,  and 
Prince  Gherardini,  the  Princesses  Bianca  and  Julietta, 
and  the  Marquis  Orsini,  on  the  part  of  the  bride- 
groom. 

Besides  these  there  were  two  notaries  public  with 
their  clerks. 

On  this  occasion  the  baroness  was  richly  dressed 


LILITH  235 

in  a  Mazarin  blue  velvet,  trained,  and  trimmed  with 
ermine,  and  ornaments  of  pearls  and  sapphire. 

The  two  young  princesses  wore  white  satin  embroi- 
dered with  rosebuds. 

Lilith,  ruby  velvet,  point  lace  and  pearls. 

Aunt  Sophie,  black  satin,  with  white  lace  shawl  and 
white  lace  cap — all  presents  from  the  baroness. 

The  gentlemen  wore  the  conventional  black  swal- 
low-tail coat,  black  vest  and  black  trousers,  with  white 
neck-tie  and  white  gloves. 

When  the  contract  was  signed  the  whole  party  ad- 
journed to  the  dining-salon,  where  a  rich  and  rare 
repast  was  spread  for  their  refreshment. 

And  after  this  they  separated  amid  hearty  con- 
gratulations. 

The  next  day,  Tuesday,  the  same  party  met  at  the 
Mairie,  where  the  civil  ceremony,  which  the  French 
law  requires,  was  duly  observed. 

But  the  grand  pageant  of  the  ecclesiastical  rites 
came  off  at  the  Church  of  St.  Genevieve  about  noon 
on  Thursday. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  forenoon  the  church  was 
crowded  with  the  nobility,  fashion  and  beauty  of 
Paris. 

The  Archbishop  of ,  attended  by  two  bishops, 

all  in  their  sacred  vestments,  were  in  readiness  to 
officiate. 

At  half-past  eleven  the  bridal  train  entered  the 
church. 

First  came  the  bride,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  her  old 

friend,  the  Due  de  L- .  She  was,  of  course,  the 

observed  of  all  observers.  She  wore  a  trained  dress  of 
white  Genoa  velvet,  richly  embroidered  with  seed 
pearls  and  trimmed  with  marabout  feathers.  Being  a 
widow,  she  wore  no  orange  blossoms;  but  her  golden 
tresses  were  crowned  with  a  diadem  of  pearls  and 
diamonds  in  three  bands,  while  down  on  the  graceful 


236  LILITH 

neck  floated  a  tuft  of  marabout  feathers  and  over  all 
the  sumptuous  costume  flowed  a  rich  old  cardinal 
point  lace  vail.  Pearl  and  diamond  necklace  in  a 
dozen  graded  festoons  encircled  her  fair  neck  and  lay 
upon  her  white  bosom.  Pearl  and  diamond  bracelets 
clasped  the  lovely  arms.  Kid  gloves,  embroidered 
with  small  pearls,  and  trimmed  with  point  lace,  cov- 
ered the  slender  yet  plump  hands.  White  boots  to 
match  the  gloves  encased  the  shapely  feet.  In  her 
hand  she  carried  a  bouquet  of  rare  white  exotics. 

Behind  her  followed  eight  bridesmaids,  in  thread 
lace  dresses,  looped  with  rosebuds,  over  white  silk 
skirts;  white  gloves,  wreaths  and  bouquets  of  white 
rosebuds. 

Lilith  wore  a  trained  dress  of  ivory-white  brocade 
satin,  trimmed  with  duchess  lace;  pearl  necklace  and 
bracelets  on  her  pretty  neck  and  arms,  and  a  pearl 
bandeau  in  her  dark  hair. 

Aunt  Sophie  was  very  grand  in  a  black  flowered 
satin,  a  black  velvet  dolman,  and  a  black  plush  bonnet 
— all  the  gifts  forced  upon  her  acceptance  by  the 
baroness.  The  bridegroom,  with  his  attendants,  came 
out  of  the  vestry  as  the  bride's  party  filed  up  the  aisle 
to  the  music  of  Mendelssohn's  wedding  march. 

The  two  parties  met  at  the  altar  and  kneeled  upon 
the  hassocks  prepared  for  them. 

The  music  ceased,  and  the  ceremony  began.  It  was 
rather  more  lengthy,  stately  and  solemn  than  such 
rites  usually  are.  But  at  last  it  was  over;  the  bene- 
diction was  pronounced;  the  register  was  signed  and 
witnessed;  intimate  friends  crowded  around  the 
newly-married  pair  with  congratulations  more  or  less 
sincere. 

It  was  one  o'clock  before  the  bridal  cortege  and 
the  wedding  congregation  entered  their  carriages  and 
dispersed,  to  meet  again  at  four  o'clock  at  the  recep- 
tion to  be  held  at  the  home  of  the  bride. 


LILITH  237 

At  the  hour  fixed  the  guests  began  to  arrive,  and 
soon  all  the  reception-rooms  were  filled  with  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  crowds  that  had  ever  assembled 
in  Paris  salons. 

The  whole  house,  profusely  decorated  with  the 
rarest  flowers,  was  thrown  open  to  the  guests. 

One  room  of  the  suite  was  given  up  to  the  exhibi- 
tion of  the  wedding  presents;  tables  arranged  around 
the  walls  and  set  here  and  there  through  the  room, 
were  laden  with  the  richest,  rarest  and  most  beau- 
tiful products  of  modern  art  and  science  in  manufac- 
tures. Jewels  that  seemed  poems;  watches  that 
seemed  vital;  India  shawls  that  were  perfect  studies 
of  finest  workmanship;  services  of  gold,  pearl,  por- 
celain of  wonderful  grace  and  elegance  in  form ;  laces 
and  embroideries  of  marvelous  pattern  and  design; 
dress  fabrics  of  velvet,  satin,  silk,  crepe,  gauze,  and 
so  forth,  that  seemed  woven  for  the  wearing  of  god- 
desses and  fairies  rather  than  for  clothing  any  woman 
of  mere  flesh  and  blood. 

This  room  possessed  a  great  charm  for  lady  guests, 
who  crowded  it  during  the  whole  two  hours  of  the 
reception. 

Another  room  was  elegantly  fitted  up  for  refresh- 
ments, that  were  laid  upon  many  small  tables,  with 
services  of  pure  gold  and  fine  porcelain,  and  attended 
by  servants  out  of  livery  who  wore  the  evening  dress 
of  gentlemen,  varied  only  by  white  satin  vests,  kid 
gloves  and  fragrant  boutonnieres. 

Here  the  greatest  skill  of  the  best  caterer  in  Paris 
had  been  expended  in  the  many  tempting  delicacies 
of  the  table;  and  the  rarest  wines  of  the  southern 
vinej-ards  added  their  serpent  charm  to  the  feast. 

This  room  found  greatest  favor  from  the  elder  ladies 
and  the  gentlemen. 

But,  after  all,  the  most  charming  apartment  of  the 
many  that  were  thrown  open  was  that  in  which  the 


238  LILITH 

bride  and  groom,  the  Prince  and  Princess  Gherar- 
dini,  received  their  guests. 

They  stood  together  near  the  door.  Behind  the 
princess  were  grouped  her  eight  lovely  bridesmaids, 
and  near  them  sat  Aunt  Sophie,  trying  to  keep  her- 
self out  of  sight,  but  enjoying  the  scene  with  all  the 
zest  of  the  youngest  girl  there.  On  the  left  of  the 
princess  stood  Lilith,  looking,  every  one  said,  the 
loveliest  woman  present.  She  still  wore  the  rich  but 
simple  dress  of  ivory  white  brocade,  and  the  orna- 
ments of  pearl  on  her  bosom,  on  her  arms  and  in 
her  black  hair;  and  now  her  cheeks  and  lips  were 
flushed,  and  her  eyes  were  brilliant  with  sympathetic 
excitement.  Lilith,  however,  had  acquired  all  the 
ease  and  grace  of  the  bon  ton,  so  that  her  animation 
only  added  glow  and  sparkle  to  her  lovely  face,  and 
left  her  form  and  manner  in  perfect  repose. 

The  baroness — I  beg  her  pardon — the  newly-wedded 
princess  took  care  to  present  every  one  who  ap- 
proached the  group  to  her  friend,  "Mrs.  Wyvil."  And 
every  one  went  away  to  talk  of  the  beautiful  crea- 
ture. Some  to  ask  others  who  this  lovely  Mrs.  Wyvil 
could  be;  and  to  be  told  that  she  was  a  very  wealthy 
young  American  widow,  who  had  made  a  great  sensa- 
tion during  the  last  season,  but  who  was  understood 
to  be  on  the  eve  of  marriage  with  some  distinguished 
American  statesman,  whose  name  had  escaped  the 
memory  of  the  latter,  and  so  forth. 

The  princess  perceived  and  enjoyed  the  triumph 
of  her  young  protegee,  even  in  the  midst  of  her  own 
bridal  ovation;  and  occasionally  a  humorous  smile 
curled  her  beautiful  lips  and  lighted  her  blue  eyes, 
as  if  she  was  enjoying  in  anticipation  some  rare,  good 
jest;  and  semi-occasionally,  as  it  were,  she  slightly 
craned  her  graceful  neck  and  tried  to  look  through 
the  nearer  crowd  and  beyond  towards  the  approach- 
ing one. 


LILITH  239 

"For  whom  are  you  watching,  niadame?"  inquired 
the  prince,  in  a  low  voice,  as  soon  as  he  got  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  his  bride. 

"Oh,  for  an  old  friend  of  mine  whom  I  particu- 
larly pressed  to  come  to  us  to-day,"  replied  the  prin- 
cess. "And  there  he  is,  slowly  working  his  way 
through  this  human  thicket,"  she  added,  as  her  eyes 
lighted  up  with  animation. 

The  prince  looked,  but  there  were  so  many  gentle- 
men approaching  from  the  same  direction  that  he 
could  not  distinguish  the  especial  person  of  whom 
the  lady  spoke. 

Meanwhile  the  stranger  in  question  came  on,  not 
pushing  his  way,  but  rather  tacking,  like  a  craft 
sailing  against  wind  and  tide,  and  suffering  himself 
to  be  driven  this  way  and  that,  but  always  slowly 
nearing  "port." 

As  he  came  on,  the  topic  of  the  hour,  the  praises 
of  the  new  beauty — the  lovely  Mrs.  Wyvil — met  his 
ears  from  all  sides — her  grace,  her  wit,  her  genius, 
her  elegance,  her  accomplishments  were  the  theme 
of  the  salon. 

"Wyvil!"  he  said  to  himself — "Wyvil!  the  name  is 
certainly  not  a  common  one!  Who  can  she  be,  I 
wonder?  An  American,  too!  I  must  see  this  belle." 

The  princess,  still  watching  the  approach  of  the 
stranger,  turned  to  Lilith  for  an  instant  and  said: 

"My  love,  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  dear  Aunt 
Sophie.  There  she  sits,  hiding  behind  you,  quite 
neglected." 

Lilith  at  once  turned  around  and  opened  a  conversa- 
tion with  the  good  old  lady  by  asking: 

"What  do  you  think  of  all  this?" 

"Oh,  honey,  I'm  half  scared  and  half  delighted,  you 
know.  'Pears  to  me  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  in  a 
dream  of  heaven!"  replied  the  dazed  and  delighted 
old  lady. 


240  LILITH 

Meanwhile  the  stranger  came  up  to  the  bridal 
group,  bowed  low  before  the  princess,  bowed  to  the 
prince,  and  then  spoke  the  required  words  of  con- 
gratulation, and  was  about  to  pass  on  and  give  place 
to  others  who  were  pressing  forward  to  pay  their  re- 
spects when  the  princess,  laying  a  light,  detaining 
hand  upon  his  arm,  said: 

"Pardon.  One  moment,  if  you  please.  I  wish  to  in- 
troduce you  to  a  fair  compatriot  of  yours." 

"I  thank  your  highness.  I  shall  be  most  happy," 
replied  the  new-comer. 

"Lilith,  my  love,"  said  the  princess,  in  a  low  voice, 
to  the  young  lady  behind  her. 

Lilith  turned  at  once. 

"Mrs.  Wyvil,  my  dear,  permit  me  to  present  to  you 
Mr.  Tudor  Hereward,  American  Charge  d' Affaires  to 
our  Court." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THAT   STARTLING  INTRODUCTION 

Each  in  the  other  can  descry 

The  tone  constrained,  the  altered  eye; 

They  know  that  each  to  each  can  seem 

No  longer  as  of  yore; 
And  yet,  while  thus  estranged,  I  deem 

Each  loves  the  other  more. 
Hers  is,  perhaps,  the  saddest  heart; 
His  the  more  forced  and  painful  part; 
And  troubled  now  becomes,  perforce, 
The  inevitable  intercourse, 

So  easy  heretofore. 

Southey. 

A  SLIGHT  start  from  Tudor  Hereward,  and  a  sudden 
paleness  of  Lilith's  face,  were  the  only  signs  of  the 
shock  that  both  had  sustained  in  this  unexpected  en- 


LILITH 

counter;  and  even  these  had  been  seen  by  no  one  ex- 
cept the  watchful  princess,  who  bad  planned  the  meet- 
ing and  studied  its  effect. 

Hereward  bowed  as  to  any  other  lady. 

Lilith  courtesied. 

Both  grew  paler.  Neither  spoke.  The  strain  was 
becoming  unbearable.  Besides,  Hereward  was  stop- 
ping the  way. 

The  princess  pitied  them;  and  then  she  became 
frightened  for  the  result  of  her  own  coup-de-theatre. 
Should  Hereward  "lose  his  head,"  or  Lilith  faint,  or 
should  they  in  any  other  manner  bring  "admired  dis- 
order" into  the  serene  repose  of  this  patrician  draw- 
ing-room? For  nature,  when  hard  pressed,  does  some- 
times break  through  all  the  elegant  little  barriers  of 
convenances  and  assert  itself. 

All  this  flashed  through  the  mind  of  the  princess 
in  a  very  few  seconds,  and  then — always  equal  to  the 
occasion — she  turned  with  perfect  ease  to  her  latest 
guest,  and  said: 

"Mr.  Hereward,  the  rooms  are  close,  and  Mrs.  Wyvil 
is  faint;  will  you  give  her  the  support  of  you  arm  to 
my  boudoir?  She  will  show  you  the  way." 

Hereward  bowed,  drew  his  wife's  arm  within  his 
own,  and  led  her  from  the  salon  by  the  shortest  way 
indicated  only  by  a  gesture  from  Lilith. 

They  entered  the  elegant  boudoir,  with  its  walls 
of  fluted  white  satin,  and  its  furniture  and  draperies 
of  white  satin  flowered  with  gold,  and  its  innumerable 
treasures  of  beauty  and  of  art;  but  they  saw  none  of 
these  things.  They  might  have  been  in  a  West  Vir- 
ginia hut,  for  all  consciousness  they  had  of  these 
splendors. 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  room — which  had  no 
other  occupant — Lilith,  sliding  from  her  hold  on  Here- 
ward's  arm,  dropped  into  the  nearest  chair,  as  if  no 
longer  able  to  stand. 


LILITH 

Hereward  bent  over  her. 

No  word  had  passed  between  them  as  yet. 

"Lilith!"  he  said,  at  length. 

"Tudor!"  she  murmured  in  reply. 

"Lilith,  is  this  real?  Can  this  wonder  be  real,  or 
is  it  onlj7  a  phantasm  of  fever,  such  as  I  have  often 
had  since  I  lost  you!  Oh,  Lilith!  if  this  be  real,  come 
to  me — come  to  me!  Come  to  me,  my  own,  and  let 
me  clasp  you  to  my  heart!"  he  pleaded,  holding  out 
his  arms. 

"Tudor — do  you  care  for  me — now?"  she  inquired, 
in  low  and  broken  tones. 

"Do  I  care  for  you?  Oh,  Lilith!  so  much;  so  much 
that  your  loss  has  almost  destroyed  my  life!  Oh,  my 
love!  Oh,  my  darling.  Why,  why  did  you  ever  leave 
me?  Why,  Lilith,  why?"  he  pleaded,  earnestly. 

"Because,"  she  murmured  very  low — "because  you 
told  me  that  you  had  never  loved  me;  you  said  that 
you  had  married  me  only  to  please  your  dying  father; 
you  bade  me  leave  your  presence,  and  you  added  that 
in  a  few  days  you  should  leave  the  house,  never  to 
return  to  it  while  I  should  desecrate  it  with  my  pres- 
ence." 

"I!  Did  I  ever  utter  such  words  as  those  to  you 
— to  my  wife?"  exclaimed  Hereward,  as  soon  as  he 
had  recovered  from  the  shock  of  hearing  them  re- 
peated to  him. 

"Indeed  you  did,  Tudor.  They  were  stamped — 
burned — too  deeply  into  my  memory  ever  to  be  for- 
gotten. I  do  not  give  them  back  to  you  now  in  re- 
proach, but  only  in  reply  to  your  question  as  to  why 
I  left  you.  You  see  now  that  I  had  no  alternative. 
I  answered  you  at  the  time  that  I  must  not  be  the 
means  of  banishing  you  from  your  patrimonial  home; 
that  since  one  or  the  other  must  go,  I  myself  should 
leave,  and  leave  you  in  peaceable  possession  of  your 
home.  Something  like  this  I  said  to  you  then,  Tudor; 


LILITH  243 

but  you  bade  me  begone,  and — I  obeyed  you.  That 
was  all,"  she  concluded,  in  a  low,  gentle  tone. 

"I  was  mad — mad!  Not  one  word  that  I  uttere'd 
then  was  true  or  rational!  Oh,  Lilith,  I  am  no  more 
responsible  for  the  words  and  actions  of  that  hour 
than  is  the  veriest  maniac  for  his  ravings!"  he  pleaded, 
sinking  over  and  leaning  heavily  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  that  supported  her  slight  frame. 

"I  know,  Tudor,"  she  said,  in  a  humble,  deprecat- 
ing tone — "I  know,  and  I  do  not  criticise  you.  How 
could  I?  The  circumstances  that  surrounded  me 
seemed  criminating  enough  to  destroy  the  faith  of  the 
most  confiding  husband  in  the  world,  though  he  were 
married  to  the  most  faithful  wife!" 

"And  yet  they  should  not  have  touched  my  faith 
in  you;  the  child  brought  up  in  my  father's  house, 
the  child  not  only  loved,  but  esteemed  and  honored 
by  my  father,  and  not  by  him  only,  but  by  all  his 
friends  and  neighbors!  No,  Lilith,  even  those  sur- 
rounding circumstances,  though  you  could  not  explain 
them,  should  never  have  touched  my  faith  in  you! 
would  never  have  done  so,  but  that  I  was  mad — 
mad  with  jealousy !  Yes,  I  confess  it.  Lilith,  can  you 
forgive  me  for  that  causeless,  injurious  jealousy?"  he 
pleaded,  bending  over  her. 

"Oh,  Tudor!  If  there  were  anything  to  forgive,  it 
was  forgiven  on  that  very  night  in  which  we  parted." 

"Ah!  why  did  you  go,  my  Lilith?  Why  did  you 
let  words  of  frenzy  drive  you  away?  Could  not  you, 
my  gentle  child,  have  been  patient  with  a  madman 
for  a  little  while?  Why  act  upon  reproaches  that 
you  knew  to  be  undeserved  and  altogether  unreason- 
able?" 

"I  knew  they  were  undeserved,  but  I  thought  they 
were  very  reasonable,  under  all  the  circumstances. 
Oh,  Tudor,  it  was  not  your  reproaches,  not  your  anger, 
that  drove  me  away  from  you!  I  could  have  borne 


LILITH 

them  and  waited  for  time  to  vindicate  me,  to  justify 
me  in  your  sight.  No,  Tudor,  it  was  not  anger  nor 
reproach  that  drove  me  away." 

"What  was  it,  then?" 

"I  told  you;  but  you  have  forgotten  it,  or  misun- 
derstood. Tudor,  I  had  to  go.  I  had  no  choice.  You 
told  me  that  you  did  not  love  me;  that  you  had  never 
loved  me,  and  said  that  you  would  go  away  and  never 
come  back  while  I  stayed  in  the  house.  But  you 
'never  loved'  me.  These  were  the  words  that  drove 
me  from  you." 

"The  words  of  a  maniac!" 

"Did  you  find  my  farewell  letter,  left  on  your 
bureau,  Tudor?" 

"Yes— I  did." 

"Do  you  remember  its  contents?" 

"Yes.  When  I  think  of  it  I  can  recall  every  word. 
That  letter  is  stamped  upon  my  memory,  Lilith,  as 
you  say  my  sentence  of  banishment  is  upon  yours." 

"Then,  Tudor,  will  you  now  recall  what  I  said  on 
bidding  you  good-bye?  It  was  something  like  this 
— though  I  cannot  recall  the  precise  words — I  told 
you  that  though  I  should  not  trouble  you  by  my 
presence,  or  my  letters,  yet  neither  should  I  take  any 
pains  to  hide  myself  from  you.  I  told  you  that  if 
the  time  should  ever  come  when,  after  revising  your 
judgment  of  me,  you  should  see  reason  to  retract 
your  charges  against  me,  and  should  ask  me  to  re- 
turn to  you,  I  would  return  and  would  be  all  to  you 
in  the  future  that  I  had  been  in  the  past.  Do  you 
remember  reading  that  in  my  farewell  letter,  Tudor?" 

"Yes,  yes!  I  do,  I  do!  And  oh,  my  child,  I  do  re- 
tract all  the  cruel  charges  that  Satan  and  false  shows 
ever  goaded  me  to  make.  I  believe  you  to  be  as  pure 
in  mind  and  heart  and  life  as  any  angel  that  stands 
before  the  Throne,"  he  said,  bending  over  her  chair. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  she  fervently  breathed. 


LILITH  245 

"And  you  forgive  me,  Lilith?" 

"I  have  more  cause  to  ask  forgiveness  than  to  ex- 
tend it,"  she  answered,  humbly. 

"No,  no!"  he  exclaimed,  deprecatingly. 

"Tudor,"  she  said,  "you  say  that  you  esteem  me — 
that  you  trust  me;  and  I  thank  Heaven  for  that!  But 
— Tudor — do  you  love  me?"  she  inquired,  in  a  low, 
thrilling,  pathetic  tone. 

"I  love  you  more  than  my  own  life,  so  help  me 
Heaven!"  replied  Hereward,  in  such  tones  of  impas- 
sioned earnestness  that  no  one  who  heard  them  could 
have  doubted  their  truth. 

Lilith  arose  and  turned,  fronting  him,  and  said: 

"Then,  Tudor,  take  me,  for  I  am  yours,  yours  en- 
tirely— spirit,  soul  and  frame!  I  say  now,  as  I  said 
once  before,  there  is  not,  there  never  was — a  pulse 
in  my  heart  that  is  not  true  to  you." 

These  last  words  were  breathed  out  upon  his  bosom, 
to  which  he  had  gathered  her. 

Presently  they  sat  down,  he  holding  her  hand  with- 
in his  own,  and  gazing  with  infinite  content  into  her 
beautiful  face. 


LOVE'S  OVATION 

"You  have  the  victory,  my  own!"  he  said  at  last, 
with  a  droll  smile.  "You  have  triumphed!" 

"How  triumphed?"  inquired  Lilith. 

"You  have  drawn  me  to  your  side,  you  have  brought 
me  to  retract,  and  yet  you  have  not  told  me  your 
secret!" 

"No!    I  have  not,  indeed;  but " 

"Nor  has  any  one  else  told  me,  nor  do  I  even  sur- 


246  LILITH 

mise  its  nature;  in  a  word,  Lilith,  I  know  no  more 
of  that  mystery  now  than  I  knew  on  that  dreadful  day 
when  it  parted  us!  And  yet  I  am  here  beside  you, 
repudiating  all  my  own  injurious  doubts  and  sus- 
picions, taking  you  in  perfect  love  and  perfect  trust." 

"Oh,  thank  Heaven  that  you  can  so  take  me!"  ex- 
claimed Lilith,  fervently. 

"And  now  I  do  not  even  ask  you  for  your  secret." 

"Oh,  but  I  can  tell  you  now!  I  am  free  to  tell  you 
now " 

"But  I  do  not  even  care  to  hear  it!  I  do  not  even 
ask  you  by 

'What  conjuration  and  what  mighty  magic' 

you,  my  little  country  girl,  are  here  in  Paris,  arrayed 
and  lodged  in  royal  magnificence,  and  gracing  more 
than  any  other  lady  in  it  the  salon  of  Madame  la 
Princesse  Gherardini.  I  am  so  perfectly  satisfied  for 
the  present  just  to  have  you  by  my  side." 

"I  bless  you  for  your  faith  and  your  forbearance, 
Tudor!  But — I  can  tell  you  the  secret  of  Monsieur 
Ancillon's  correspondence  with  me  in  one  single  word. 
He  is  my — father!" 

"Your  father,  Lilith!    Ancillon  your  father!" 

"Yes,  though  I  never  knew  it  until  after  we  were 
married." 

"Ancillon  your  father!  Incredible!  Are  you  sure 
of  that?" 

"Quite  sure." 

"How  did  you  discover  the  fact?    Did  he  tell  you?" 

"I  first  discovered  it  by  the  packet  of  old  letters 
and  papers  put  away  in  that  trunk  which  was  the 
sole  legacy  of  my  dear  mother  to  me." 

"Ah!  Ah!  Ancillon  himself,  when  he  came  to  me 
once  at  Cloud  Cliffs,  referred  me  to  those  documents; 
but  when  I  had  the  trunk  broken  open  and  searched, 
the  papers  were  gone!" 


LILITH  24T 

"I  had  brought  them  away  for  safe  keeping.  They 
were  too  important  to  be  left." 

"I  understand  now!  I  understand.  But,  Lilith! 
We  all  thought  your  parentage  was  so  well  known 
that  there  could  be  no  mistake  about  it !  Your  father 
and  mother  lived  at  Seawood.  Your  father  was 
drowned  in  saving  my  life.  Your  mother  died  of  the 
shock  the  very  day  of  your  birth.  How,  then,  is  it 
possible  that  this  man  can  claim  to  be  your  father?" 

"Oh,  Tudor,  it  is  a  long  and  sad  story.  There  is 
no  time  to  tell  it  to  you  now;  but  this  much  I  can 
tell:  Joseph  Wyvil  and  Elizabeth,  who  lived  such  a 
secluded  life  at  Seawood  that  their  neighbors  knew 
little  or  nothing  of  them  except  that  they  belonged 
to  the  village  church,  and  led  quiet,  industrious  and 
blameless  lives — were  not  husband  and  wife  as  people 
took  them  to  be — but  a  devoted  brother  and  a  most 
unfortunate  young  sister,  who  had  lost  her  husband 
by  a  fate  much  worse  than  death.  More  than  this  I 
cannot  tell  you  now.  Both  died  too  suddenly  to  con- 
fide the  secret  to  any  one.  So  I  was  registered  as  the 
child  of  Joseph  and  Elizabeth  Wyvil,  when  in  fact  I 
was  the  child  of  Alphonzo  and  Elizabeth  Zuniga!" 

"Zuniga!" 

"Yes." 

"Then  Ancillon  is  a  relative  of  that  young  Spaniard 
we  met  in  Washington  who  looked  so  much  like  him?" 

"He  was  the  same.  Ancillon  and  Zuniga  were  one. 
Ancillon  was  his  professional  name,  Zuniga  was  his 
family  name." 

"A  very  strange  story,  Lilith." 

"My  father  will  give  you  every  particular  as  soon 
as  your  convenience  permits  him  to  do  so.  And  I 
shall  furnish  the  documents  that  shall  prove  the  truth 
of  his  story." 

"How  is  it,  my  child,  that  you  could  not  at  the 
very  tii-st  have  told.  i.  •*"  +  Ancillon  was  your  father? 


248  LILITH 

That  you  are  now  at  liberty  to  tell  that  secret  which 
cost  you  so  much  to  keep  a  year  ago?" 

"Because  I  am  now  in  possession  of  the  sequel  to 
the  secret,  without  which  I  could  never  have  told  the 
secret.  But  you  shall  know  all  from  my  father.  I 
think,  also,  I  ought  to  tell  you  how  I  happen  to  be 
in  Paris  with  the  Princess  Gherardini.  I  can  do  so 
in  a  very  few  words.  When  I  left  home  I  went  to 
New  York,  found  a  home  with  a  good  Christian, 
motherly  woman,  the  widow  of  a  clergyman.  After 
waiting  many  weeks  to  hear  from  you,  without  suc- 
cess, I  answered  a  lady's  advertisement  for  a  traveling 
companion,  and  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  accepted 
and  to  enter  the  household  of  the  Baroness  Von 
Bruyin,  now,  since  morning,  the  Princess,  Gherardini. 
I  did  not  know  that  she  was  your  first  love.  In  tell- 
ing me  the  story  you  had  not  told  me  any  names.  She 
grew  to  love  me.  I  know  not  why " 

"Why  does  every  one  love  you,  child?" 

"Ah,  I  don't  know  that  every  one  does!  I  don't 
even  think  that  many  do.  Madame  Von  Bruyin  has 
always  treated  me  with  the  distinction  of  an  honored 
guest  and  the  affection  of  a  beloved  sister.  You  saw 
me  in  her  immediate  circle  to-day.  That  has  always 
been  my  place." 

"She  is  a  much  nobler  and  more  generous  woman 
than  I  had  ever  supposed  her  to  be." 

"Oh,  she  is  indeed!  But,  Tudor!  Tell  me  how  you 
came  to  be  here  at  this  wedding  reception,  when  I 
supposed  you  to  be  at  the  Court  of ?" 

"My  love,  I  received  a  pressing  letter  from  the 
baroness,  not  only  inviting  but  commanding,  exhort- 
ing and  entreating  me  to  come;  going  through  all  the 
variations  of  the  potential  mood  to  compel  me  to  come. 
In  short,  darling,  it  was  such  a  letter  as  could  not  be 
gainsayed.  I  obeyed,  thinking  that  the  lady  only 
wanted  an  opportunity  to  say — Hail!  and  Farewell! 


LILITH  249 

to  an  old  friend.  I  came  and  found  my  lost  treasure! 
And  now  I  know  her  motive  was  to  restore  that 
treasure  to  my  possession.  And  I  thank  and  bless  her 
for  it." 

"Amen  and  amen!"  breathed  Lilith. 

"But,  dearest  dear!  She  introduced  you  as  Mrs. 
:Wyvil!  How  was  that?" 

"Oh,  Tudor,  I  dreamed  that  some  one  in  a  high, 
delirious  fever  had  told  me  that  I  must  never  call 
myself  by  the  name  of  Hereward  again,  and  I  was  so 
foolish  as  to  take  the  sick  man  at  his  word." 

"I  remember!  I  remember!  Oh,  Lilith!  How  much 
you  have  to  forgive!" 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive!  nothing!  I  am  just  as 
happy  as  a  lark!" 

"My  darling,  since  you  entered  Madame  Von 
Bruyin's  family  under  the  name  of  Wyvil,  how  could 
she  have  known  or  guessed  that  you  were  my  wife?" 

Lilith  paused  and  reflected,  and  then  she  answered : 

"I  am  not  pledged  to  secrecy  in  this  matter;  yet,  if 
you  were  not  my  husband,  and  if  I  were  not  fully 
resolved  never  to  have  a  secret,  either  of  my  own  or 
of  any  one  else's,  from  you,  I  should  not  tell  you  this; 
for  women  should  not  betray  women,  especially  to 
the  common  enemy;  but  I  know  you  are  not  vain, 
Tudor,  and  you  are  generous." 

"Now,  if  you  object " 

"I  do  not  object — I  insist  on  telling  you." 

"Go  on,  then." 

"You  know  she  was  your  first  love " 

"My  first — and  last — hallucination!  You,  Lilith, 
were  my  first  and  enduring  love,"  amended  Hereward. 

"Oh!  thank  Heaven!"  breathed  the  young  wife,  al- 
most inaudibly;  then  she  said: 

"You  were  not  quite  just  to  her,  Tudor.  The  old 
baron  whom  she  married  was  more  of  a  father  than 
a  husband  to  her;  he  doted  on  her  from  her  infancy. 


250  LILITH 

She  was  the  only  creature  in  the  world  that  he  loved 
— except  her  father." 

"She  told  me  that." 

"He  engaged  himself  to  her  that  he  might  give  her 
a  title  and  leave  her  his  fortune." 

"She  did  not  need  his  fortune.  She  was  the  heiress 
of  great  wealth." 

"I  know,  but  still  he  wished  to  leave  his  darling 
all  he  possessed." 

"He  might  have  done  that  without  marrying  her." 

"Yes,  but  he  wished  also  to  give  her  his  title;  the 
title  which — they  said — he  meant  to  ask  of  the  em- 
peror, in  lieu  of  the  payment  of  many  millions  loaned 
by  him  during  the  war.  He  wished  to  ennoble  his 
pet." 

"Well,  love?  What  has  all  this  got  to  do  with  your 
telling  the  baroness  your  story?"  inquired  Here  ward, 
with  a  smile. 

"Everything!  You  shall  hear.  This  old  man,  who 
loved  without  self-love,  discovered  that  his  fair  be- 
trothed was  very  unhappy,  and  pressed  her  for  the 
reason.  That  she  should  have  a  sorrow  that  he  could 
not  comfort,  with  all  his  wealth  and  power,  seemed 
as  wonderful  as  it  was  insupportable!  He  pressed 
her  for  her  confidence,  and  she  gave  it  to  him — told 
him — well,  she  told  him,  in  effect,  that  she  would 
rather  marry  Mr.  Tudor  Hereward  than  Herr  Bruyin. 
And  he  released  her  from  her  engagement  to  him- 
self, and  promised  to  win  over  her  father  to  consent 
to  her  marriage  with  you.  When  you  returned  to 
Washington,  she  sought  you  out  and  offered  the  hand 
that  she  had  once  refused.  But  you,  being  then 
married,  could  not  accept  it.  Tudor!  were  you  sorry?" 

"I  am  not  sorry  now,  dearest,  at  all  events,"  he 
answered,  drawing  the  little  figure  closer  to  his  side. 

"Of  course,  sorrow,  disappointment  and  humilia- 
tion preyed  upon  the  spoiled  beauty.  Your  marriage 


LILITH  251 

with  me  was  announced,  and  Herr  Bruyin,  who  was 
still  watching  over  his  darling,  knew  then  the  three- 
fold cause  of  her  anguish.  He  went  to  her  and  re- 
minded her  that  their  marriage  had  been  announced 
some  weeks  before,  and  that  the  announcement  had 
not  been  contradicted,  and  he  proposed  to  her  to  let 
their  betrothal  stand;  to  marry  at  the  appointed  time; 
to  go  with  him  to  Europe;  and,  in  the  grand  tour 
and  at  the  great  capitals,  where  she  would  be  wel- 
comed and  feted,  to  forget  the  disappointments  she 
had  experienced  here.  She  followed  his  counsel,  and 
they  were  married  and  went  abroad.  I  tell  you  this, 
Tudor,  that  you  may  be  just  to  her;  for  now  you  see 
that  she  was  not  a  double-dealer;  she  was  not  deceit- 
ful; she  was  perfectly  frank  with  you  and  with  her 
old  betrothed,  from  first  to  last." 

"Then  I  have  wronged  her  in  my  judgment.  And 
it  begins  to  seem  to  me  that  I  am  rather  given  to 
wronging  people,  eh,  Lilith?" 

"No,  you  are  not.  You  have  been  misled  by  false 
appearances,  which  were  nobody's  fault." 

"You,  at  least,  are  very  charitable,  Lilith.  But  go 
on,  dear." 

"You  know,  I  suppose,  that  Herr  Bruyin  received 
his  title  soon  after  his  arrival  in  his  native  city,  and 
that  he  survived  the  event  but  a  few  months,  and 
that  Herr  Von  Kirschberg  died  about  the  same  time?" 

"Yes,  I  heard  that." 

"Madame  Von  Bruyin,  bereft  of  husband  and  father, 
returned  to  New  York  early  in  April.  In  May  she 
advertised  for  a  companion.  I  applied  for  the  situa- 
tion, pleased  madame,  and  was  accepted,  as  I  told  you. 
She  knew  me  only  as  Mrs.  Wyvil  and  believed  me  to 
be  a  widow.  She  grew  very  fond  of  me " 

"Very  naturally." 

"We  were  to  sail  by  the  Kron  Prinz  on  the  first  of 
June." 


252  LILITH 

"Why,  I  sailed  on  the  Kron  Prinz,  on  the  first  of 
June!"  Hereward  interrupted. 

"Exactly.  And  that  was  the  very  reason  why  we 
did  not.  And  now  comes  the  crisis  of  my  story — the 
reason  why  I  was  compelled  to  discover  my  real 
name  and  position  to  Madame  the  Baroness.  She 
had  seen  the  account  of  your  appointment  as  Secre- 
tary of  Legation,  coupled  with  the  theory  that  you 
had  accepted  the  post  mainly  for  the  sake  of  serving 
the  country  in  a  place  far  removed  from  the  spot  as- 
sociated with  the  tragic  death  of  your  wife " 

"  'Young  and  lovely  wife,'  I  think  they  put  it, 
Lilith,"  said  Hereward,  with  a  droll  smile.  "Well,  it 
was  true,  so  far  as  I  know.  My  health  had  broken 
down  under  the  heavy  blow  of  your  loss  and  your 
supposed  death,  Lilith.  And  when  I  was  convales- 
cent I  eagerly  snatched  at  the  opportunity  of  leaving 
a  home  that  had  become  hateful  to  me,  and  of  seek- 
ing distraction,  not  consolation,  not  forgetfulness,  in 
new  scenes  and  new  duties.  And  madame  saw  my 
name  in  the  published  list  of  passengers,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes;  curiosity,  a  very  natural  curiosity,  led  her  to 
read  the  list  of  cabin  passengers  by  the  Kron  Prinz, 
to  see  who  were  to  be  our  fellow-passengers,  and  she 
saw  your  name  there.  In  another  part  of  the  paper 
she  had  seen  the  account  of  your  voyage  and  its 
causes,  of  which  I  have  just  told  you.  But,  Tudor,  she 
did  not  tell  me  all  this  until  we  were  out  at  sea.  Ou 
that  day  when  she  sent  for  me  she  gave  me,  as  I  said, 
only  an  outline  of  her  reasons.  She  told  me  that  there 
was  a  party  going  out  by  the  Kron  Prinz  with  whom 
she  did  not  choose  to  travel." 

"A  very  proper  decision,  under  the  very  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances. But  what  has  that  got  to  do " 

"I  am  rapidly  coming  to  that,  Tudor.  After  we  had 
sailed,  when  the  pilot  left  us  and  we  were  far  out 
of  sight  of  land,  Madame  Von  Bruyin  gave  me  her 


LILITH  253 

whole  confidence.  She  told  me  the  story  of  her  early 
betrothal  with  an  old  millionaire;  and  of  her  first  love 
— or  fancied  love — into  which  her  inexperienced  heart 
had  betrayed  her.  She  told  me  everything  just  as  I 
have  told  it  to  you." 

"And  as  I  had  told  you,  months  before,"  put  in 
Here  ward. 

"Yes:  but  you  gave  me  the  facts  from  your  point 
of  view,  and  she  gave  them  to  me  from  her  own.  And 
hers  was  the  true  view,  Tudor." 

"Yes,  I  acknowledge  that." 

"She  said  that  in  her  position  and  in  yours — both 
so  recently  bereaved — she  could  not  possibly  think  of 
crossing  the  ocean  in  the  same  ship  with  you.  And 
then,  Tudor,  she  added  an  explanation  that  made  my 
hair  stand  on  end — so  to  speak." 

"Ah!  what  was  that  which  could  have  straightened 
these  pretty,  rippling  locks  and  made  them  stand  erect 
'like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine?'  "  gayly  in- 
quired Hereward,  as  he  passed  his  hand  fondly  over 
her  little  curly  black  head. 

"She  told  me  that  in  a  few  months  you  (she  and 

yourself)  would  probably  meet  in .  And,  in  shovt, 

that — both  being  free  to  form  new  ties — the  old  in- 
terest in  each  other  would  be  revived;  that  after  the 
year  of  mourning  had  been  past,  you  two  would,  of 
course,  marry,  and  that  she  should  do  everything  in 
her  power  to  atone  to  you  for  all  the  disappointment 
she  had  caused  you,  and  to  make  your  life  happy! 
Was  not  that  enough  to  make  my  hair  bristle  up  on 
end — to  hear  another  woman  tell  me  to  my  face  that 
she  was  going  to  marry  my  husband  and  live  happy  all 
the  rest  of  their  lives?" 

Hereward  broke  into  a  merry  laugh. 

"You  know,  I  could  not  let  her  go  on  dreaming 
that  dream.  I  told  her  she  must  not  think  of  such  a 


LILITH 

thing.  And  when,  being  very  much  astonished  at  my 
assurance,  she  asked  me  why  she  must  not,  I  told  her 
because  it  would  be  a  deadly  sin,  for  that  Mr.  Here- 
ward's  wife  was  still  living.  And  when  she  pressed 
to  know  why  I  thought  so,  I  had  to  tell  her,  because 
I  myself  was  that  wife,  supposed  to  be  dead.  Well, 
then,  of  course,  it  was  necessary  to  tell  her  the  cause 
of  our  parting — that  it  was  a  bitter  misunderstanding 
growing  out  of  circumstances  which  placed  me  in  a 
false  light.  I  spoke  only  in  general  terms;  and  be- 
cause I  could  not  go  into  details  I  offered  to  cancel 
our  contract  and  leave  her  as  soon  as  we  should  laud 
at  Havre." 

"And  what  would  you  have  done,  then,  as  'a  stran- 
ger in  a  strange  land,'  Lilith?  Would  you  have  come 
on  to  me?"  inquired  Hereward. 

"Uncalled,  and  after  all  that  had  passed?  Oh,  no! 
I  could  not  have  done  that.  I  should  have  taken  the 
first  steamer  back  to  New  York  and  returned  to  Aunt 
Sophie." 

"Aunt  Sophie?" 

"Mrs.  Downie,  the  clergyman's  widow,  with  whom 
I  had  lived  in  New  York.  But  Madame  Von  Bruyiii 
would  not  consent  to  cancel  our  contract.  She  insisted 
that  I  should  remain  with  her.  She  was  very  good 
about  it  all.  Indeed,  she  treated  me  with  more  than 
even  her  usual  kindness,  and  from  that  hour  I  became 
to  her  as  a  beloved  and  cherished  sister.  I  think  she 
got  over  her  sentimental  fancy  for  you,  for  I  think  it 
was  nothing  more  than  that." 

"Probably  not,"  said  Hereward,  with  a  smile. 

"And  when  the  'Fairy  Prince'  appeared  in  the  form 
of  Gherardini,  I  think  the  beauteous  lady  discovered 
that  she  had  never  really  been  in  love  in  all  her  life 
before,"  added  Lilith,  archly. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.    No  heartier  congratula- 


255 

tions  were  ever  offered  to  any  bride  than  were  mine  to 
the  newly  married  princess  to-day,"  said  Hereward. 

"And,  by  the  way,"  suggested  Lilith,  "the  bridal 
pair  are  to  leave  for  Marseilles,  en  route  for  Rome,  at 
five  o'clock,  and  it  must  be  near  that  hour  now.  Will 
you  return  to  the  drawing-room  or  remain  and  await 
me  here?" 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  said  Hereward,  as  he  arose 
and  offered  Lilith  his  arm. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

HAPPY  HOURS 

THEY  went  back  to  the  salon,  which  was  BOW  nearly 
empty.  Only  a  few  late-comers  were  present,  and  they 
were  taking  leave  of  the  newly  wedded  pair. 

When  these  had  withdrawn  from  the  room,  Here- 
ward led  Lilith  up  to  the  receiving  circle,  and  ad- 
dressing the  bride,  said: 

"Madame,  I  have  to  add  to  my  congratulations  the 
most  heartfelt  and  grateful  acknowledgments.  Words 
cannot  thank  you  for  the  boon  you  have  given  me  in 
the  resoraticn  of  this  lost  treasure." 

"Let  us  hope,  Mr.  Hereward,  that  you  will  in  the 
future  guard  that  treasure  too  carefully  ever  to — mis- 
lay it  again,"  archly  replied  the  princess. 

Hereward  bowed  deprecatingly. 

"You  remain  in  Paris  some  time,  I  hope?" 

"I  have  a  month's  respite  from  official  duties,  ma- 
dame." 

"Then  you  will,  perhaps,  kindly  permit  me  to  place 
this  house  at  your  disposal  during  your  stay.  Mrs. 
Hereward  had  already  arranged  to  remain  here  during 
my  absenc^.  To  change  that  plan  at  this  late  hour 
would  not  be  easy.  So,  if  it  would  not  inconvenience 


256  LILITH 

you  to  take  up  jour  quarters  here  for  a  season,  you 
would  oblige  me  very  much  by  doing  so/'  said  the 
princess. 

"Madame,  it  is  certainly  my  wife  and  myself  who 
are  obliged  in  this  matter.  We  feel  your  kindness,  and 
thank  you  very  sincerely,"  replied  Hereward. 

"And  now,  Lilith,  dear  little  sister,  will  you  go  with 
me  to  my  room?  It  is  time  to  dress  for  the  journey," 
said  the  princess,  drawing  the  arm  of  her  young  friend 
within  her  own,  bowing  to  the  circle,  and  sailing  out 
of  the  salon. 

When  the  two  friends  reached  madame's  sumptu- 
ous dressing-room  they  found  the  lady's  maid  wait- 
ing with  the  traveling  suit  of  mouse-colored  velvet, 
plush  hat,  and  marabout  plumes  of  the  same  shade, 
and  silver  fox  fur  cloak  and  muff,  all  laid  ready  for  her 
mistress. 

"Madame,"  said  Lilith,  "I  have  to  thank  you  for  the 
happiness  of  my  life,  though  thanks  can  ill  express  all 
I  feel." 

"Ah,  bah,  ma  chere!  I  had  planned  this  meeting 
long  ago.  But,  indeed,  I  was  able  to  bring  it  about 
even  under  better  auspices  than  I  had  hoped.  The 
'sinner,'  as  Aunt  Sophie  calls  Zuniga,  helped  me.  I 
shall  find  you  here  when  I  return  four  weeks  hence, 
I  hope?" 

"Yes,  madame.  You  will  reside  in  Paris,  then,  al- 
ways?" 

"Oh,  no.  Only  during  the  season.  We  shall  reside 
principally  in  the  Gherardini  Castle,  among  the  Apen- 
nines, an  old  ancestral  stronghold,  which  half  charms, 
half  frightens  me;  but  I  shall  know  more  about  it 
when  I  see  it.  And  some  day,  Lilith,  you  will  come 
and  spend  a  summer  with  us  there,  and  help  to  lighten 
the  gloom." 

"I  thank  you  very  much.  I  think  that  I  should  like 
it  extremely,"  answered  the  younger  lady. 


LILITH  257 

The  princess'  rich  but  plain  toilet  was  soon  finished, 
and  she  went  below,  accompanied  by  Lilith. 

The  prince  was  waiting  for  her  in  the  lower  hall, 
where  all  her  household  had  gathered  to  bid  the  newly 
married  pair  good-bye. 

Aunt  Sophie  stood  there,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the 
gallant  old  professor,  and  quietly  smiling  and  weep- 
ing— the  soft-hearted  creature  smiled  and  wept  a  little 
at  every  wedding. 

The  domestics  were  gathered  behind. 

The  prince  and  princess  took  a  kindly  leave  of  all, 
and  a  most  affectionate  one  of  Aunt  Sophie  and  Mon- 
sieur Le  Grange. 

So,  followed  by  the  good  wishes  of  their  friends, 
they  left  the  maison. 

Not  until  the  assembled  household  had  seen  the 
traveling  carriage  roll  out  of  the  court-yard  gate  did 
they  separate  and  disperse  to  their  several  quarters. 

"I  must  go  and  see  to  those  valuable  wedding  pres- 
ents being  locked  carefully  away.  Indeed,  I  think  I 
shall  finally  send  them  to  the  valts  of  the  bank.  Will 
madame  graciously  excuse  me?"  inquired  the  polite 
Monsieur  Le  Grange,  as  he  led  Mrs.  Downie  to  the 
little  salon. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  Please  go  look  after  all  that  gold 
and  silver  and  jewels  at  once.  It  is  an  awful  tempta- 
tion to  leave  in  the  way  of  servants — awful.  And  so 
many  strange  waiters  in  the  house,  too!"  said  Mrs. 
Downie,  as  she  sank  into  a  seat. 

"Aunt  Sophie,"  said  Lilith,  approaching  on  the  arm 
of  Tudor,  "this  is  Mr.  Hereward,  my  husband.  And 
this  lady,  sir,  is  Mrs.  Downie,  who  has  been  so  kind  to 
me  ever  since  I  made  her  acquaintance." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  know  you,  madame,  and  very 
grateful  for  all  your  goodness  to  my  wife,  in  the  days 
of  her  adversity,"  said  Hereward,  taking  the  old  lady's 
little  offered  hand. 


258  LILITH 

"Thanky,  sir;  I  am  happy,  very,  to  see  you;  but  as 
for  my  being  good  to  her,  it's  all  even,  I  reckon.  I 
wasn't  one  bit  better  to  her  than  she  was  to  me,  all 
the  time,"  said  Mrs.  Downie. 

"You  were  like  a  mother  to  me,  always,"  warmly  re- 
plied Lilith. 

"Well,  then,  and  wa'n't  you  all  the  same  as  an  own 
dear  daughter  to  me?  That  she  was,  Mr.  Hereward. 
But,  honey,  I  never  knowed  you  had  a  husband,  or  a 
father  either,  till  this  very  afternoon.  While  you  were 
out  of  the  room  with  Mr.  Hereward  the  'sinner*  come 
in  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  bride  and  groom,  and 
then  stood  with  me,  behind  the  grandees,  and  told  me 
all  about  it — how  you  was  his  daughter  and  Mr.  Here- 
ward's  wife!  Of  course,  naturally  I  knowed  you  must 
have  been  somebody's  daughter,  honey;  but  the  idea 
of  you  being  anybody's  wife!  Why,  I  didn't  know  you 
was  married!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  in  comic  won- 
der. 

"Aunt  Sophie,  will  you  forgive  me  for  not  telling 
you  anything  about  my  father  or  my  husband?  And 
for  all  the  secrets  that  I  have  kept  from  you,  who  was 
like  a  mother  to  me?"  inquired  Lilith,  tenderly  taking 
her  old  friend's  hand. 

"Lor',  honey,  what  call  have  I  got  to  forgive  you? 
Forgive  you  for  what?  For  keeping  of  your  father's 
and  your  husband's  secrets?  Why,  child,  you  hadn't 
any  right  to  tell  other  people's  secrets.  I  reckon  you 
had  none  of  your  own;  though  most  people  do  have 
some  secrets.  Lor' !  everybody  can't  tell  everything  in 
the  world  to  everybody  else,  I  reckon.  'T wouldn't  do, 
anyways.  So  don't  say  no  more  about  that,  my  dear." 

"You  are  very  sweet,  Aunt  Sophie." 

"Oh,  no,  I  ain't,  honey." 

"I  used  to  think,  sometimes,  that  you  looked  at  me 
as  if  you  suspected  that  I  was  not  all  I  seemed  to 
be." 


LILITH  259 

"No,  honey;  that  wasn't  it.  I  couldn't  help  seeing 
that  you  had  had  great  troubles — very  great  troubles 
for  one  so  young — and  I  used  to  look  at  you  and  won- 
der what  in  this  world  they  could  be.  But  all  the 
time  I  know'd  very  well — I  know'd  'way  down  deep  in 
my  heart — that  you  was  good  and  true,  and  didn't  de- 
serve to  be  so  afflicted.  And  now  it  id  proved  as  you 
didn't.  The  'sinner'  told  me  all  about  it — every  bit — 
and  I  reckon  I  know  more  than  you  do,  now,  honey: 
because  the  'sinner'  said  that  to-morrow  he  meant  to 
come  to  the  house  and  tell  you  and  Mr.  Hereward  all 
that  he  had  told  yesterday  to  the  baroness,  and  to- 
day to  me.  So,  of  course,  you  see,  you  have  got  to 
hear  something  you  don't  yet  know." 

"He  told  the  baroness!"  exclaimed  Lilith,  while 
Hereward  listened  attentively. 

"Yes,  yesterday;  and  me  to-day." 

"Where  is  Zuniga  now?"  inquired  Hereward. 

"Gone  back  to  the  Hotel  of  Love,  on  the  Kue  River." 

"Where?"  inquired  Hereward,  looking  to  Lilith  for 
an  explanation. 

"Hotel  du  Louvre,  Rue  de  Rivoli,"  said  Lilith,  add- 
ing: "Aunt  Sophie  has  not  yet  become  accustomed  to 
foreign  words." 

"No,  honey;  and  I  never  shall,  neither — never! 
Now,  everybody  here  calls  the  nicest  man  that  I  kaew 
the  'sinner,'  as  if  he  was  the  only  sinner  in  the  world. 
Why,  we  are  all  sinners,  for  that  matter.  And  then 
Mrs.  Hereward  here " 

"Lilith!  Lilith!  dear  Aunt  Sophie." 

"May  I,  honey?  Well,  anyhow,  she  told  me  how 
'sinner'  meant  Sir  and  Mr.  in  the  foreign  language. 
.Now,  if  all  the  Sirs  and  Mr.'s  in  foreign  lands  are  so 
wicked  and  so  barefaced  as  to  call  themselves  and 
each  other  sinners,  in  that  defiant  manner,  to  their 
yery  faces,  1  say  it  don't  speak  well  for  foreign  lands, 


260  LILITH 

and  the  sooner  we  get  back  to  New  York  and  Brother 
More's  ministry  the  better." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Mrs.  Downie,"  said  Here- 
ward,  laughing. 

"And  them  waiters  at  the  Hotel  of — no;  I  mean 
the  Hotel  do  Love — which  I  thought  they  called  them 
goslings,  but  she  says  they  were  'go-soons,'  and  that 
name  fitted  them  young  mounseers  right  well,  'cause 
the  spry  way  they  did  fly  around  was  enough  to  make 
one's  head  giddy.  But  there !  I  reckon  as  I  am  letting 
my  tongue  run  before  my  wit." 

"Oh,  now,  Aunt  Sophie,  you  shall  not  say  such  wick- 
ed things  about  yourself.  But  tell  me,  did  my  father 
leave  no  message  for  us?" 

"Yes,  honey.  He  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  he  would 
be  here  airly  to-morrow  morning.  And  I  reckon  as  that 
don't  mean  seven  or  eight  o'clock,  as  it  would  with  us, 
but  more  likely  half-past  eleven  or  a  quarter  to  twelve. 
He  said  he  wouldn't  interrupt  you  this  first  evening 
of  your  meeting.  The  'sinner'  is  right-down  consider- 
ate— for  a  sinner.  And  I  must  not  intrude  longer, 
neither,"  said  Aunt  Sophie,  rising  to  leave  the  small 
salon  in  which  this  interview  had  taken  place. 

Both  Hereward  and  Lilith  protested  against  her  go- 
ing, but  she  said : 

"Children,  I  have  to  see  the  remnants  of  the  wed- 
ding feast  gathered  into  hampers,  and  tied  up  and 
sent  out  to  be  distributed  to  the  poor.  And  I  reckon 
there  will  be  a  great  many  more  than  'twelve  baskets 
full.'  The  wine  and  fruit  and  potted  things  is  to  be 
sent  to  the  Hope-it-all  of  Sand  Marree,  or  some  such 
name.  Antoine  knows.  But  the  baroness  wanted  me 
to  see  to  it,  to  keep  temptation  out  of  the  way  of  the 
weak.  You'll  excuse  me  now?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Sophie,  since  you  must  go,"  said  Lilith. 

"And  I'll  send  your  tea  up  into  this  room,  so  you 


LILITH  261 

can  have  it  all  to  yourselves  tater-tater,  as  these 
funny  foreigners  say  of  two  together,  though  what 
they  mean  by  it  I  don't  know,  unless  it  is  potatoes, 
which  they  do  know  how  to  cook — I  will  say  that  for 
them — though  why  potatoes  in  this  case  nobody  but 
a  foreigner  could  tell.  Well,  oh  river!  that  means 
good-bye,  or  something  of  that  sort.  I  knw  the  moun- 
seers  often  say  it  when  they  go  'way." 

So  speaking,  half  to  her  friends,  half  to  herself, 
in  her  soft,  slow  tones,  Aunt  Sophie  passed  out  of  the 
room. 

Tea  was  soon  served  to  the  reunited  and  really 
happy  pair,  and  as  this  refreshment  was  prepared 
under  the  immediate  supervision  of  Aunt  Sophie 
(who  declared  that  though  the  mounseers  and 
gosoons  were  great  on  coffee,  they  could  not  begin 
to  make  a  decent  cup  of  tea),  it  was  really  as  good  as 
they  could  have  obtained  in  their  own  home. 

The  evening  of  that  exciting  day  was  spent  very 
quietly. 

The  wearied  household  retired  early  and  slept  until 
late  in  the  morning. 

Tudor  Hereward,  Aunt  Sophie  and  Monsieur  Le 
Grange  sat  down  to  breakfast  at  ten  o'clock. 

They  were  still  at  the  table  when  Senor  Zuniga's 
card  was  brought  and  laid  before  Mr.  Hereward. 

Lilith  and  Tudor  arose  at  once  and  passed  out  to 
the  little  salon  where  the  visitor  was  waiting  for 
them. 

Zuniga  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  He  wore 
an  elegant  morning  suit  of  dark  olive;  his  long,  curl- 
ing black  hair  was  carefully  dressed;  his  gypsy  face 
full  of  droll  humor.  He  looked  more  like  a  rollicking 
boy  than  ever. 

He  advanced  towards  Lilith,  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her  fondly. 


LILITH 

Then  releasing  her  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Here- 
ward,  shouting,  joyously: 
"How  are  you,  my  dear  son? 

'It  gives  me  wonder,  great  as  my  delight, 
To  see  you  here  before  me,  oh!  my  soul's  joy!'  " 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,  Senor  Zuniga,"  began 
Hereward,  in  his  stately  manner. 
"Father,  my  son!     Call  me  father! 

'Mislike  me  not  for  my  complexion.'  " 

"Will  you  take  this  seat,  dear?"  inquired  Lilith, 
drawing  forth  one  of  the  most  comfortable  chairs  in 
the  room. 

When  they  had  all  sat  down,  Hereward  once  more 
said: 

"I  am  really  happy  to  see  you,  senor,  and  to  have 
this  unpleasant  family  mystery,  which  has  caused  us 
so  much  trouble,  finally  cleared  up." 

"So  am  I!  So  is  Lilith!  So  are  we  all!  Or,  rather, 
so  we  shall  be  when  it  is  cleared  up!  But  it  is  not 
cleared  up  yet  by  a  long  shot!  And  so  you  shall  soon 
find. 

'Lend  me  your  ears!'     .     . 
'I  could  a  tale  unfold,  whose  lightest  word 
Would  harrow  up  thy  soul!' 

'Then  shall  you  hear 
Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field, 
Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe 
And  sold  to  slavery!' 

Are  you    ready  to   listen?"   inquired   the   senor,   as 
he  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair. 

"We  are  very  anxious  to  hear,"  said  Lilith. 

"Very  well,  then,"  replied  Senor  Zuniga. 
he  began  his  story. 


LILITH  263 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


Listen,  how  still  waiting,  dreaming 

Of  some  wild,  heroic  life, 
How   the  young  heart,   all   unconscious, 

Had  really  entered  on  the  strife. 

Now  that  I  can  reason  calmly, 

And  look  clearly  back  again, 
I  can  see  the  brightest  meaning 

Threading  each  dark,  torturing  pain. 

How  the  strong  resolve  was  broken, 

Why  rash  hope  and  foolish  fear, 
And  the  prayers  which  God  in  pity 

Still  refused  to  grant  or  hear. 

Anon. 

IT  was  a  picturesque  group  gathered  around  that 
table — Zuniga,  Hereward  and  Lilith. 

Zimiga,  with  his  slight,  elegant  and  graceful  form, 
his  dark  complexion — darker  still  with  his  luxuriant 
black  curls — fine  black  eyes,  shadowed  with  black 
eyelashes,  and  arched  by  black  eyebrows,  and  his 
perfect  features,  the  beautiful  mouth  not  hidden  by 
the  twirled  moustache  divided  on  the  upper  lip. 
Zuniga,  with  his  laughing,  reckless,  boyish  air, 
seemed  the  youngest  of  the  group  of  whom  he  was 
the  father — or  at  least  the  younger  of  the  two  men. 

Hereward,  with  his  tall  and  stately  figure,  his  noble 
head,  blonde  complexion,  severe  classic  profile,  and 
steel-blue  eyes,  and  with  his  grave  and  dignified  de- 
meanor, seemed,  certainly,  the  elder  of  the  two. 

Lilith,  in  her  simple  and  elegant  morning  dress  of 
white  foulard  silk,  which  well  became  her  lovely 
brunette  beauty,  sat  between  them,  but  nearer  to  the 
Sefior  Zuniga. 

Had  any  stranger  been  told  that  here  sat  a  mar- 


264,  LILITH 

ried  pair  and  a  father,  and  had  been  required  to  tell 
"which  was  which,"  he  would  certainly  have  pointed 
out  Hereward  as  the  father,  and  the  two  others  as 
the  son  and  daughter. 

Their  relative  ages  were  as  follows:  Zuniga  was 
thirty-eight,  Hereward  twenty-nine,  and  Lilith  nine- 
teen. 

Zuniga  began  his  story  in  his  usual  eccentric 
manner: 

"Esteemed  son-in-law  and  beloved  daughter!  That 
little  personal  pronoun,  in  the  first  person  singular, 
nominative  case,  is  such  a  very  obtrusive  person,  that 
it  should  be  suppressed  on  every  possible  occasion. 
This  autobiography,  or  fragment  of  autobiography, 
then,  shall  be  delivered  in  the  third  person,  with  your 
consent.  What  do  you  say?" 

Zuniga  paused  for  a  reply. 

"As  you  like,  senor,"  gravely  responded  Hereward. 

"Yes,  do,  please,"  assented  Lilith. 

Zuniga  proceeded: 

"About  thirty-five  years  ago Now  don't  throw 

yourself  back  in  your  chair  with  such  a  look  of  antic- 
ipated weariness,  Hereward.  Have  more  respect  for 
your  venerable  father-in-law,  and  set  a  better  example 
to  my  daughter,  or  I  shall  'set'  a  mother-in-law  over 
your  head,  or,  rather,  a  step-mother-in-law,  which 
must  be  a  combination  of  domestic  autocracy.  Be- 
sides, the  story  is  not  so  long  as  the  time. 

"Well,  about  thirty-five  years  ago,  the  good  ship 
Polly  Ann,  of  Glasgow,  Swift,  master,  bound  for  New 
York,  when  about  half  way  across,  sighted  a  non- 
descript object,  which,  on  nearer  view  and  closer  in- 
spection, proved  to  be  a  raft,  on  which  languished  a 
half-dead  shipwrecked  sailor,  and  a  three-quarters 
dead  shipwrecked  child. 

"The  victims  were  rescued,  taken  on  board  the 
Polly  Ann,  and  restored  by  such  simple  and  effica- 


LILITH  265 

cious  treatment  as  was  familiar  to  the  skipper  and  his 
crew  as  specifics  'for  such  cases  made  and  provided.' 

"The  sailor  was  a  man  of  about  fifty  winters;  the 
child,  a  boy  of  three  summers — though  why  the 
winters  should  always  be  enumerated  for  the  old, 
and  the  summers  for  the  young,  is  more  than  I  can 
understand,  since  both  young  and  old  have  an  equal 
distribution  of  summers  and  winters  in  their  years. 
But  this  is  a  digression. 

"As  soon  as  the  sailor  was  able  to  give  an  account 
of  himself  and  his  fellow-sufferers,  we  learned  that 
they  were  the  survivors  of  the  ship  Falcon,  Captain 
Pentecost,  homeward  bound  from  Havana  to  Liver- 
pool, and  foundered  in  the  late  equinoctial  storm, 
when  in  latitude  this  and  that,  and  longitude  so  and 
so;  never  mind  the  figures,  they  are  forgotten  long 
ago,  even  if  they  were  ever  exactly  known,  which  is 
doubtful. 

"The  crew  and  passengers  of  the  wrecked  ship  had 
left  it  in  two  boats  and  on  a  raft.  The  captain  had 
taken  command  of  the  first  boat,  the  first  mate  of 
the  second  boat,  and  the  second  mate  of  the  raft. 

"The  sailor  could  give  no  account  of  the  fate  of 
either  boat  after  they  had  left  the  wreck. 

"On  the  raft  besides  himself,  Zebedee  Wyvil,  second 
mate  of  the  Falcon,  who  was  in  command,  there  were 
seven  common  seamen  and  three  passengers;  these 
passengers  being  Sefior  Don  Alphonzo  Zuniga  and  his 
wife  and  child. 

"A  sad  story  could  be  told  of  the  long  sufferings 
and  terrible  deaths  of  these  shipwrecked  victims,  but 
it  would  not  only  be  quite  useless,  but  altogether  too 
heart-rending.  Besides  which,  tragedy  is  both  un- 
pleasant and  unprofitable,  except  to  the  performers 
on  the  stage,  with  an  audience  of  two  thousand  per- 
sons, averaging  a  dollar  a  head. 

"In  brief,  all  the  passengers  on  the  raft  perished 


266  LILITH 

from  want  and  exposure,  except  the  sailor,  whose 
strong  vitality  sustained  him,  and  the  child,  for 
whose  sake  all  had  denied  themselves  from  the  be- 
ginning. 

"You  may  be  sure  that  the  captain  and  the  crew 
of  the  Polly  Ann  were  very  much  interested  in  the 
story  of  the  shipwrecked  sailor  and  the  child.  The 
captain  gave  Zebedee  Wyvil  a  berth  as  soon  as  he 
was  able  to  handle  a  rope;  and  one  and  another  talked 
of  adopting  the  little  Spanish  waif.  But  Zebedee 
Wyvil  informed  all  and  sundry  that  the  child  was 
his  own  treasure  trove,  and  that  he  should  keep  it 
until  it  should  be  claimed  by  those,  if  any  such  lived, 
who  should  have  a  better  right  to  it  than  himself. 

"Certainly  no  one  on  the  Polly  Ann  ventured  after 
that  to  dispute  Wyvil's  possession  of  the  little  Zuuiga. 

"In  due  time  the  Polly  Ann  reached  New  York, 
discharged  her  cargo  of  linen,  tartan,  Paisley  shawls, 
and  so  forth;  loaded  with  another  cargo  of  tobacco 
and  cotton,  and  cleared  for  Glasgow,  Zebedee  Wyvil 
going  as  third  mate,  and  taking  with  him  his  treasure 
trove,  to  which  arrangement  no  one,  under  the  circum- 
stances, objected. 

"In  due  time  also  the  Polly  Ann  reached  Glasgow, 
and  there  Mate  Wyvil,  who  had  only  engaged  for  the 
homeward  voyage,  left  the  ship,  taking  his  little 
Spanish  boy  with  him. 

"Zebedee  Wyvil  was  a  bachelor;  and  he  was  the 
main  support  of  his  sister-in-law,  the  widow  of  his 
younger  brother,  Andrew,  and  of  her  two  children, 
Joseph  and  Elizabeth,  who  lived  at  Stockton,  a  small 
village  in  the  West  Riding  of  Yorkshire. 

"Zebedee  Wyvil,  when  on  shore,  always  made  his 
home  with  this  sister-in-law. 

"Now,  on  leaving  his  ship,  he  resolved  to  take  the 
Spanish  child  with  him  to  Stockton,  and  place  him 
under  the  care  of  this  sister-in-law. 


LILITH  267 

"But  first  he  bethought  him  of  having  the  boy  chris- 
tened, lest  that  necessary  ceremony  had  not  already 
been  performed. 

"So  he  took  the  lad  to  St.  John's  Church  in  Glas- 
gow and  had  him  christened  Joseph  Wyvil,  in  honor 
of  his — Zebedee's — own  father. 

"Then  he  carried  the  child  to  his  own  home  and 
presented  him  to  his  sister-in-law. 

"The  widow  and  her  children  received  the  sailor 
and  the  orphan  boy  with  great  kindness;  but  when 
his  name  was  given — 

"  'Joseph  Wyvil!'  exclaimed  the  widow.  'Why, 
what  in  the  name  of  sense  put  you  on  giving  the  bairn 
that  name?' 

"  'It  was  the  name  of  my  old  feyther,  as  good  a 
man  as  ever  lived/  retorted  Zebedee. 

"  'But  it  is  the  name  of  my  own  lad!' 

"  'So  it  be!     I  had  forgot  that  same.' 

"  'And  now  if  the  bairn  bides  wi'  us  there'll  be  two 
Joseph  Wyvils  in  the  one  house.' 

"  'Well,  then,  and  there  cannot  be  too  many  Joseph 
Wyvils  anywhere,  if  they  be  one  and  all  as  good  as 
the  first  of  the  name!  And,  moreover,  to  distinguish 
the  lads  apart,  we  may  even  call  the  elder  Joseph, 
and  the  younger  Joe/  concluded  Zebedee. 

"And  as  he  carried  the  purse,  his  will  was  law  in 
that  little  household,  and  so  the  point  was  settled. 
His  nephew  was  known  as  Joseph  Wyvil,  and  his 
little  treasure  trove  as  Joe. 

"Joseph  was  a  fine,  strong,  red-haired  and  freckle- 
faced  youth  of  ten,  Joe  an  ugly  little  black-a-vizzed 
monkey  of  four,  and  Elizabeth,  or  'Lil/  a  pretty  baby 
of  two  years. 

"Uncle  Zeb  left  all  his  pay  with  his  sister  and 
shipped  for  another  long  voyage. 

"The  three  children  were  brought  up  together  and 
in  due  time  sent  to  school. 


268  LILITH 

"Joe,  as  the  adopted  son  of  Uncle  Zeb,  was  taught 
to  call  the  Widow  Wyvil  'Aunt/  and  her  children  each 
'Cousin.' 

"Years  went  by  with  but  little  of  incident  to  the 
humble  household,  except  in  the  periodical  home-com- 
ing and  sea-going  of  Uncle  Zeb. 

"When  Joseph  Wyvil,  the  widow's  son,  was  fifteen 
years  of  age,  he  was  taken  from  school  and  appren- 
ticed to  a  house  carpenter,  and  in  time  he  became  a 
very  skilful  workman. 

"When  Joe  was  about  twelve  years  old  he  was 
placed  in  a  collegiate  school  by  his  adopted  father, 
wrhose  ambition  it  was  to  get  his  son  in  the  naval 
academy. 

"He  remained  in  that  school  for  three  years,  dur- 
ing which  time  two  members  of  the  small  family 
passed  away — Zebedee  Wyvil  died  of  yellow  fever, 
while  his  ship  was  in  port  in  Havana;  and  Susan 
Wyvil  succumbed  to  pulmonary  consumption,  in  her 
cottage  home  at  Stockton. 

"At  the  end  of  the  third  year  Joe  left  the  collegiate 
school.  Not  that  his  preparatory  course  was  finished, 
and  not  that  he  wished  to  leave,  but  because  the 
quarterly  payments  for  his  board  and  tuition  had 
ceased  with  his  adopted  father's  life. 

"And  though  the  masters,  knowing  the  case  and 
the  circumstances,  would  have  kept  him  longer,  the 
pride  of  this  son  of  the  hidalgoes  would  not  suffer 
him  to  receive  the  favor. 

"You  may  object  that  he  had  already  received 
favors  from  humbler  people,  in  having  been  adopted 
and  cared  for  by  the  mate  of  the  Falcoa.  Ah,  but 
that  was  so  different!  Old  Zebedee  Wyvil  had  seemed 
like  his  own  father.  He  had  known  no  other. 

"Well,  he  left  the  college,  and  went  home  to  Stock- 
ton, to  those  who  seemed  like  his  own  people,  poor 
as  they  were,  since  they  were  all  he  had  left. 


LILITH  269 

"He  found  his  cousins,  as  be  called  them,  still  liv- 
ing together,  and  occupying  the  old  cottage. 

"Joseph  was  now  a  fine  young  man  of  twenty-one, 
doing  a  thriving  business  at  his  trade,  and  making 
a  very  comfortable  home  for  his  young  sister  Lil, 
a  lovely  girl  of  thirteen,  who  kept  house  for  him, 
and  to  whom  he  was  devotedly  attached — yes,  so  de- 
votedly attached  that  friends  and  neighbors  all  said 
Joseph  Wyvil  would  never  take  a  wife  while  that  be- 
loved sister  remained  unmarried  and  in  his  home. 

"This  sister  and  brother  received  poor  Joe  with 
the  most  affectionate  welcome,  making  him  feel  per- 
fectly at  home  and  at  ease. 

"In  return  for  all  this  kindness  the  dark  and 
swarthy  descendant  of  the  Castilians  fell  desperately 
in  love  with  the  fair-skinned,  blue-eyed  and  flaxen- 
haired  child  of  the  Saxons.  He  made  such  ardent 
and  persistent  love  to  the  little  maid  that  Lil  grew 
frightened  and  fled  his  company,  yet  never  complained 
of  him  to  her  big  brother — the  little  angel!  I  mean 
she — Lil — was  the  little  angel,  you  will  all  please  to 
understand,  and  not  the  big  brother,  though  he  was  a 
good  fellow  enough. 

"Ah,  well,  after  Lil  repulsed  and  fled  from  him,  and 
shunned  him  altogether  as  if  he  had  been  the  horned 
and  hoofed  demon  himself,  he  grew  desperate  and 
went  off  to  sea. 

"Being  fairly  well  educated,  and  having  permission 
to  refer  to  his  college  masters,  he  got  a  good  berth 
from  the  first,  as  captain's  clerk  in  an  East  India  mer- 
chantman. 

"For  some  months  all  went  well  enough,  and  Joe 
'won  golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of  officers  and 
men.  But  being  a  wild,  reckless,  impulsive,  rollick- 
ing sort  of  a  little  devil,  he  soon  began  to  get  into 
all  manner  of  troubles,  though  he  always  contrived 


270  LILITH 

to  get  out  of  them  again,  falling  like  a  cat  on  his 
feet. 

"During  all  this  time  he  kept  up  an  irregular  cor- 
respondence with  his  cousin  Joseph,  freely  confessing 
all  his  peccadilloes,  but  stipulating  that  no  one  was 
to  tell  Lil. 

"After  a  three  years'  voyage  all  around  the  world, 
Joe  came  home,  and  went  straight  to  the  dear  old  cot- 
tage at  Stockton. 

"He  found  the  house  and  garden  enlarged  and  im- 
proved in  proportion  to  Joseph  Wyvil's  increased 
prosperity. 

"Joe  was  now  a  sun-burned  sailor  boy  of  eighteen, 
much  darker  and  very  much  more  of  a  dare-devil  than 
ever. 

"Lil  was  sixteen,  and  more  beautiful  than  before. 
She  was  still  the  idol  of  her  brother,  for  whom  she 
kept  house,  and  who — for  his  dear  sister's  sake,  as  it 
was  said — remained  unmarried  and  unengaged. 

"The  brother  and  sister  received  their  saiior  cousin 
with  all  their  old  confiding  affection.  Lil  had  for- 
given his  presumption  and  forgotten  her  fears  of 
him. 

"But,  ah!  poor  Joe!  His  passion  for  this  'fair  one 
with  golden  locks'  was  rekindled  into  such  a  fierce 
flame  that  nothing  on  earth  seemed  strong  enough 
to  resist  it. 

"It  was  her  love  or  somebody's  life! 

"He  demanded  to  marry  Lil  right  off. 

"But  her  brother  opposed  such  precipitate  meas- 
ures; urged  that  both  parties  were  much  too  young 
to  dream  of  marriage,  Joe  being  eighteen,  and  Lil 
but  sixteen.  Why,  he  said  that  he,  himself,  Joseph 
Wyvil,  his  elder  by  six  years,  did  not  yet  contemplate 
matrimony.  Besides,  he  could,  in  any  case,  give  his 
sister  a  comfortable  home  yet  for  many  years,  or  even 


LILITH  271 

for  her  whole  life,  while  Joe  had  no  home  to  take  her 
to,  and  had  still  his  own  way  to  make  in  the  world. 

"In  answer  to  all  this,  Joe,  with  the  modest  as- 
surance— or  shall  we  say  consummate  impudence? — of 
his  nature,  proposed  that  he  should  immediately 
marry  Lil  and  that  they  should  continue  to  live  on 
at  the  cottage  until  he  should  have  to  go  to  sea  again, 
when  he  would  leave  his  wife  as  heretofore  in  her 
old  home  under  the  protection  of  her  brother. 

"Naturally  enough,  Mr.  Wyvil  did  not  see  the  ex- 
cellence of  this  arrangement  in  quite  so  strong  and 
vivid  a  light  as  did  Joe  and  even  Lil. 

"After  laughing  a  little  at  the  ingenuous  proposal, 
he  reverted  to  his  first  argument,  that  both  were  too 
young,  foolish  and  impecunious  to  be  married — add- 
ing that  a  boy  of  eighteen  and  a  girl  of  sixteen,  who 
talked  of  such  a  proceeding,  should  be  locked  up  for 
a  calendar  mouth  on  a  depleting  diet  of  bread  and 
water. 

"Whereupon  the  Spanish  lad  eagerly  declared  that 
as  for  himself  he  would  most  joyfully  submit  to  the 
terms,  bread,  water,  imprisonment  and  everything 
else  that  might  be  required  to  purchase  the  indul- 
gence, if  only  Joseph  would  be  so  good  as  to  lock 
him  and  his  sweetheart  up  in  the  same  room. 

"For  all  answer  to  that  suggestion,  Mr.  Wyvil  in- 
formed the  ardent  lover  that  he  was  a  lunatic  and 
should  be  sent  to  a  mad-house. 

"Opposition  only  added  fuel  to  the  flame  of  Joe's 
passion.  Mr.  Wyvil  did  not  understand  the  difference 
between  the  dark  blood  and  the  bright  when  he  con- 
temptuously characterized  that  passion  as  puppy  love. 

"Mr.  Wyvil  went  off  to  his  work.  He  was  finishing 
the  interior  of  a  church  at  that  time.  Joe  raved  and 
Lil  cried.  And  then  they  took  their  fate  into  their 
own  hands.  They  resolved  to  run  away  and  get  mar- 
ried! Or  rather  to  sneak  away. 


272  LILITH 

"Late  that  night,  when  honest  Joseph  Wyvil  was 
in  bed  and  asleep,  Joe  and  Lil,  in  traveling  rig,  and 
with  a  couple  of  small  valises,  in  which  all  their 
worldly  goods  were  packed,  and  which  were  gallantly 
carried  by  the  gentleman,  who  balanced  them  one  in 
each  brown  hand,  Joe  and  Lil  sneaked  out  of  the 
back  door,  and  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  trudged 
on  to  the  railway  station,  where  they  took  the  12.30 
train  to  Scotland. 

"They  left  the  train  the  next  morning  only  to  has- 
ten to  the  nearest  minister's  house  to  get  married. 
As  soon  as  the  ceremony  was  concluded  and  they 
had  got  a  bit  of  breakfast  at  the  counter  of  the  rail- 
way station,  standing  up  at  it,  uncomfortably,  to 
drink  weak  and  lukewarm  coffee  and  eat  stale  sand- 
wiches, they  took  the  next  train  back  to  England. 

"But  not  daring  to  face  Joseph  Wyvil  in  the  first 
hours  of  his  'roused  wrath,'  they  shunned  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Stockton  and  stopped  at  a  little  Yorkshire 
village  of  Orton,  not  far  from  the  city  of  Carlisle. 

"They  took  lodgings  at  a  pretty,  picturesque  little 
farm-house  called  Hayhurst,  from  which  retreat  they 
both  wrote  a  mutual  penitent  letter  to  Joseph  Wyvil, 
expressing  profound  sorrow  for  having  disobeyed 
and  offended  so  dear  and  good  a  brother,  but  declar- 
ing that  they  could  not  do  otherwise,  as,  though  he 
had  forbidden  them  to  think  of  marriage,  they  loved 
each  other  so  much  that  they  must  either  marry  or 
die,  and  they  ended  by  imploring  his  forgiveness,  and 
signing  themselves  his  devoted,  obedient,  loving 
brother  and  sister,  Lil  and  Joe. 

"Both  Joe  and  Lil  thought  this  letter  so  very  touch- 
ing, eloquent,  pathetic  and  convincing  that  it  must 
bring  Mr.  Wyvil  hurrying  to  them  in  person  with  open 
arms  and  fervent  blessings. 

"And  they  waited  for  some  such  happy  result. 


LILITH  273 

"But  no  Mr.  Wjvil  came  to  greet  their  longing  eyes. 
And  no  letter  came  in  answer  to  theirs. 

"Every  day  Joe  went  to  the  village  post-office,  but 
found  nothing  for  them. 

"A  fortnight  passed  in  this  suspense,  and  then  Joe 
suggested  that  their  letter  might  have  miscarried,  and 
so  they  sat  down  together  and  indited  a  second  letter, 
more  penitent,  more  pathetic,  more  eloquent  and  con- 
vincing than  the  first.  Joe  posted  it  with  his  own 
hands,  and  they  both  waited  confidently  for  some 
happy  result. 

"None  came.  Another  fortnight  passed,  and  then 
Joe  grew  angry  and  Lil  anxious. 

"  'If  a  man  is  not  satisfied  with  repentance  and  con- 
fession he  is  no  Christian,'  said  Joe. 

"  'But  we  don't  repent,  and  we  only  confess  what  is 
already  known;  and  perhaps  Joseph  is  sick/  sug- 
gested Lil. 

"Then  Joe  wrote  a  confidential  letter  to  a  mutual 
friend  in  Stockton,  making  inquiries  concerning  Mr. 
Joseph  Wyvil.  In  due  time  he  received  an  answer, 
stating  that  Mr.  Wyvil  was  well  and  prosperous,  but 
so  very  deeply  offended  by  the  runaway  marriage  that 
he  would  not  permit  his  sister's  or  his  cousin's  name 
to  be  mentioned  in  his  presence.  The  writer  con- 
cluded his  letter  in  some  such  words  as  these: 

"  'Give  him  time  and  he  will  come  around.  He  is 
too  good-hearted  a  man  and  too  fond  of  his  sister, 
and  even  of  you,  to  hold  out  against  you  both  much 
longer.' 

"Lil  cried  a  good  deal  over  this,  but  Joe  encour- 
aged her,  and  so  did  their  landlady,  Mrs.  Claxton, 
who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  the  young  pair. 

"Fortunately,  Joe  had  thirty  pounds  saved  up  from 
his  three  years'  pay  as  captain's  clerk,  and  so  there 
was  no  fear  of  immediate  embarrassment. 


274  LILITH 

"Lil,  led  on  by  the  landlady,  interested  herself  in 
farm  life,  in  the  daily  and  in  the  poultry  yard.  She 
was  pleased  to  be  permitted  to  help  to  skim  the  milk, 
or  to  churn  the  butter,  or  to  look  after  the  newly 
hatched,  pretty  little  fluffy  chickens  and  ducklings; 
and  though  she  often  heaved  a  sigh  at  the  thought  of 
her  brother,  it  soon  passed  away,  leaving  no  trace  be- 
hind. 

"Joe  was  more  to  be  pitied.  He  was  in  more  dan- 
ger from  his  idle  and  objectless  life  of  the  present 
moment.  He  went  daily  to  the  village,  and  what  was 
worse,  he  went  nightly  to  the  Tawny  Lion,  the  vil- 
lage ale-house,  where  he  formed  acquaintance  with 
the  young  farmers  and  mechanics  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, all  tenants  of  Squire  Hawkhurst,  of  Hawkhurst 
Hall. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A    FATAL    SNARE 

"JUST  now  the  whole  neighborhood  was  excited 
over  the  situation  at  the  Hall.  Young  Mr.  James 
Hawkhurst,  nephew  and  heir  of  Squire  Hawkhurst, 
was  a  sort  of  Prince  Hal,  in  his  way,  and  had  by  his 
wild  life  and  free  manners  at  the  same  time  won  the 
love  of  all  his  young  tenants,  whose  boon  companion 
at  the  ale-house  he  frequently  became,  and  the  indig- 
nation of  his  uncle,  who  threatened  to  disinherit  him. 

"This,  the  gossips  of  the  village  said,  the  squire 
had  the  legal  power  to  do,  since  the  estate  was  not 
entailed;  but  they  also  urged  that  the  squire  had 
no  moral  right  to  rob  his  heir  of  that  land  which  he 
should  justly  inherit,  not  only  from  his  immediate 


LILITH  275 

progenitor,  but  from  the  long  line  of  ancestors  who 
had  gone  before  him. 

"This  was  the  view  taken  by  all  the  youthful  ten- 
ants and  boon  companions  of  the  young  squire. 

"At  every  evening  gathering  in  the  tap-room  of 
the  Tawny  Lion,  Joe  heard  this  matter  discussed,  and 
naturally  he  took  sides  with  the  young  squire  and 
his  followers. 

"At  length,  when  Joe  and  Lil  had  been  in  the 
neighborhood  for  about  five  weeks,  a  crisis  came  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Hall. 

"It  was  understood  that  a  very  violent  scene  had 
ensued  between  the  old  squire  and  the  young  one, 
which  had  ended  in  the  banishment  of  the  young 
squire,  who  had  left  the  Hall  in  disgrace  and  had 
taken  lodgings  at  the  Tawny  Lion. 

"In  a  day  or  two  it  was  ascertained  that  the  old 
squire  had  had  a  'stroke/  and  was  not  expected  to 
live  through  the  week. 

"A  servant  from  the  Hall  had  brought  the  newrs 
to  the  circle  at  the  ale-house,  that  a  telegram  had 
been  sent  to  the  solicitor  of  the  old  squire,  Mr.  John 
Ketchain,  of  Carlisle,  to  come  immediately  down  to 
the  Hall  to  remain  with  the  squire  until  the  end,  and 
to  take  charge  of  affairs;  also  to  bring  with  him  the 
squire's  last  will,  which  disinherited  the  heir  and  left 
the  estate  to  u  hospital,  and  which  was  already  signed 
and  sealed. 

"Lawyer  Ketcham,  the  man  added,  was  expected  to 
arrive  at  Stockbridge,  the  nearest  railway  station,  by 
the  9:50  express,  and  would  come  on  to  the  Hall  by 
the  railway  stage-coach,  which  ran  twice  a  day  be- 
tween Stockbridge  and  Orton. 

"The  news  brought  by  the  servant  from  the  Hall 
excited  a  great  deal  of  indignation  among  the  men 
present. 


276  LILITH 

"Much  foolish  talk  was  indulged  in.  Many  worse 
than  foolish  threats  were  made. 

"In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Joe,  who  was  as  usual  pres- 
ent, got  up  and  left  the  place,  and  hurried  home  to 
Hayhurst  Farm  to  take  tea  with  Lil. 

"He  found  the  people  at  the  farm  all  in  a  state  of 
extreme  excitement  at  some  news  brought  by  a  cow- 
boy, to  the  effect  that  the  old  squire  had  just  breathed 
his  last.  Not  that  they  were  so  much  interested  in 
the  old  squire  as  the  young  one. 

"Mrs.  Claxton,  the  farmer's  wife,  hoped  that  no  will 
had  been  made,  in  which  case  the  young  squire  would 
of  course  inherit  as  heir-at-law. 

"Then  Joe  contributed  his  mite  of  intelligence 
gleaned  from  the  circle  in  the  tap-room  of  the  Tawny 
Lion,  to  the  effect  that  the  obnoxious  will  had  been 
made,  signed  and  sealed,  and  that  it  was  then  in  the 
hands  of  Lawyer  Ketcham,  who  was  on  his  way  from 
London  to  Orton,  to  take  charge  of  affairs  at  the 
Hall. 

"And  now  Mrs.  Claxton  prayed  the  Lord  might  for- 
give her  for  hoping  that  some  accident  might  happen 
to  the  train  or  to  the  stage  coach,  to  prevent  that 
wicked  will  ever  coming  to  light. 

"After  tea,  some  one  suggested  that  the  report  of 
the  old  squire's  death  might  possibly  be  a  false  one, 
and  suggested  that  some  one  else  should  go  over  to 
the  Hall  and  ascertain  the  truth. 

"Joe,  the  least  tired  of  all  the  men  present,  be- 
cause they  had  been  hard  at  work  all  day  and  he  had 
not  been  at  work  at  all,  good-naturedly  volunteered 
for  the  service. 

"Everybody  thanked  him,  and  he  got  up  to  go. 
Everybody  laughed  when  he  kissed  Lil,  as  if  he  had 
been  going  on  a  long  journey  instead  of  a  short  walk. 

"Ah  me!  how  little  we  know  what  we  do!    Joe  set 


LILITH  277 

out  to  be  gone  half  an  hour;  but  he  never  saw  the 
farm-house  again. 

"Joe  went  on  to  the  Hall,  gayly  whistling  and  ut- 
terly unconscious  of  the  impending  tragedy  of  his  life. 

"At  the  Hall  he  found  the  servants  closing  the 
window-shutters,  although  it  was  not  yet  dark;  from 
that  circumstance  he  gained  confirmation  of  the  re- 
port of  the  squire's  death,  even  before  their  words 
had  given  it. 

"  'But  Lawyer  Ketcham  is  expected  down  to-night 
to  look  after  affairs,  and  nothing  more  can  be  done 
until  his  arrival,'  was  the  volunteered  communication 
of  the  old  butler. 

"Joe  thanked  the  man  and  turned  to  go  back  to 
the  farm.  Ah!  if  he  had  only  gone  back  to  the  farm, 
what  woe  would  have  been  spared  him  and  all  con- 
nected with  him.  Strange  on  what  seeming  trifles 
human  destiny  hangs.  Venerable  reflection  that! 

"If  Joe  had  turned  to  the  east  instead  of  the  west, 
on  leaving  the  park  gates,  his  whole  life  would  have 
been  different.  The  east  path  would  have  led  him 
back  to  the  farm  and  to  safety.  The  west  path  led 
him  to  the  gates  of  perdition. 

"The  reason  why,  at  the  last  moment,  he  turned 
to  the  west  was  simple  enough.  He  remembered 
that  there  was  an  evening  mail  due  at  the  village, 
and  thought  it  just  possible  that  Joseph  Wyvil,  re- 
lenting towards  Lil  and  Joe,  might  have  written  a 
letter,  and  that  he  should  find  it  at  the  post-office 
and  have  the  delight  of  taking  it  home  to  rejoice  the 
heart  of  the  young  wife.  So  he  turned  to  the  west, 
instead  of  to  the  east,  and  so  decided  his  o^n  fate. 

"Joe  trudged  all  the  way  to  the  village,  whistling 
gayly  as  he  went. 

"He  found  no  letter  in  the  post-office,  and  feeling 
much  disappointed,  he  turned  to  go  home  to  the  farm- 
house, through  the  gathering  darkness. 


278  LILITH 

"The  way  was  long,  and  the  sky  was  black  with 
night  and  clouds.  Joe  thought  to  take  a  short  cut 
through  some  thick  woods,  but  in  attempting  to  do 
so  lost  his  way  and  wandered  about  for  some  time 
before  he  came  out  on  a  part  of  the  high  road  un- 
familiar to  him. 

"He  turned  into  this;  but  was  utterly  at  a  loss  what 
direction  to  take. 

"Presently,  however,  he  heard  footsteps  and  voices 
approaching,  and  he  spoke  aloud,  asking  to  be  directed 
the  nearest  way  to  Hayhurst  Farm. 

"By  that  time  the  approaching  party  had  come  up 
with  him,  and  one  of  them,  who  had  recognized  his 
voice,  called  out: 

"  'Is  that  you,  Joe?' 

"  'Yes,  Thomas  Estel,  it  is  I,  and  I  have  lost  my 
way  in  the  dark,  and  want  to  be  set  on  my  right  road 
for  Hayhurst  Farm,'  replied  the  youth. 

"  'All  right.  But  come  with  us  first.  We  won't  keep 
you  long.  And  you'll  see  some  roaring  fun.' 

"  'But  it  is  late,  and  I  want  to  get  home  to  Lil,' 
objected  Joe. 

"  'And  so  you  shall  in  good  time;  but  come  with 
us  first.' 

"  'Where  are  you  going?' 

"  'Not  out  of  your  way  home.  Quite  on  the  same 
road.  This  road.  Such  a  lark!  You'll  never  forgive 
yourself  if  you  miss  it.' 

"Poor  Joe!  He  was  always  ready  for  a  lark.  He 
joined  himself  to  the  half  dozen  boys,  whom,  as  his 
eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  he  began 
to  recognize  as  his  village  acquaintances;  but  more 
from  their  general  appearance  than  from  their  faces, 
which  were  all  half  masked. 

"  'Is  it  mumming?'  inquired  Joe. 

"  'Something  like  that,'  replied  Estel. 

"And  they  went  on  together  down  the  road,  which 


LILITH  279 

deepened  into  a  dark  dell,  or  gully,  between  two  high, 
wooded  banks. 

"Here  they  paused  and  waited. 

"  'What  are  you  stopping  for?'  inquired  Joe. 

"  'Oh!  you'll  soon  see/  replied  a  boy  named  Bur- 
ton. 

"  'I  wish  you  would  let  me  go  on.  I  know  Lil  will 
be  anxious,'  pleaded  Joe. 

"  'So  you  shall  in  a  minute  or  two.    Wait  a  bit/ 

"Estel  and  Burton  were  stretching  a  rope  across 
the  road  and  tying  its  extremities  to  trees  on  the 
opposite  sides. 

"Joe  watched  them  uneasily. 

"  'What  are  you  doing  that  for?'  he  anxiously  in- 
quired. 

"  'Ax  us  no  questions  and  we'll  tell  you  no  lies, 
youngster,'  laughed  Burton. 

"  'I'm  going  home!'  retorted  Joe;  and  he  turned  to 
leave  the  party  and  to  try  to  find  his  way  to  the  farm 
alone. 

"But  at  that  moment  the  sound  of  wheels  was 
heard  rapidly  approaching  from  the  direction  to 
which  Joe  had  set  his  face,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
lanterns  of  the  swiftly-rolling  stage  coach  gleamed 
through  the  darkness. 

"Another  instant  and  the  leaders  had  reached  the 
unseen  barrier,  tripped  and  reared.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  bits  were  seized,  the  coach  was  surrounded, 
and  oaths  and  curses,  cries  and  screams,  and  dire  con- 
fusion filled  the  scene.  In  the  struggle  with  the  rear- 
ing and  plunging  horses  the  coach  was  overturned, 
the  lanterns  extinguished,  and  utter  darkness  was 
added  to  the  horror  of  the  situation. 

"Joe  Wyvil  stood  at  a  little  distance,  transfixed 
with  amazement  at  the  suddenness  of  the  catastro- 
phe that  he  did  not  in  the  least  understand.  He 
never  for  a  moment  suspected  that  the  stopping  of 


280  LILITH 

the  stage  coach,  was  the  'lark'  alluded  to  by  his  com- 
panions, for  why  should  they  stop  the  stage  coach? 
They  were  not  highway  robbers,  even  if  highway 
robbers  were  not  utterly  out  of  date  in  England  in 
this  century.  No;  he  supposed  the  whole  affair  to 
have  been  an  accident,  unintentionally  caused  by  the 
boys  stretching  that  rope  across  the  road  in  pursuit 
of  some  other  'lark;'  to  trip  up  some  foot  passenger, 
perhaps,  whom  they  meant  to  make  the  victim  of 
some  practical  joke. 

"Only  for  an  instant  he  stood  panic-stricken,  and 
then  he  darted  into  the  horrible  mele'e  to  find  out  if 
he  could  be  of  any  assistance. 

"At  the  same  moment  he  perceived  through  the 
murky  darkness  the  figures  of  two  men  in  silent, 
deadly  struggle,  and  then  he  heard,  through  the 
groans  and  shrieks,  the  stern  voice  of  some  man  say- 
ing: 

"  'Hand  over  that  wicked  will,  you  villainous  law 
shark,  or  I  will  save  the  hangman  a  job  by  strangling 
you  with  my  own  hands!'  or  compliments  to  that 
effect. 

"A  fiercer,  deadlier  struggle  ensued,  and  then  the 
flash  and  report  of  a  pistol,  and  the  heavy  fall  of  one 
of  the  men. 

"Almost  at  the  same  instant  the  scene  was  filled 
with  a  posse  comitatus  of  constables  and  laborers, 
drawn  to  the  spot  by  the  shrieks  and  cries  that  had 
given  the  alarm. 

"A  murder  had  been  committed,  and  Joe  Wyvil 
was  found  bending  over  the  dead  man,  with  the  fallen 
pistol  on  the  ground  at  his  feet,  when  he  was  rudely 
collared  and  well  shaken  by  the  strong  hand  of  the 
constable  who  arrested  him. 

"But  so  utterly  dazed  and  confounded  was  the  boy 
by  all  that  had  so  suddenly  happened  to  him,  like 
a  hurricane  or  an  earthquake  in  its'  swift  destruc- 


LILITH  281 

tion,  that  he  was  totally  unable  to  give  any  intel- 
ligible account  of  himself. 

"His  companions  had  fled,  and  taken  to  the  covert 
of  the  woods  on  either  side.  Joe,  the  guiltless,  was 
the  only  one  arrested. 

"With  the  help  of  many  hands  the  overturned  stage 
coach  was  righted,  and  the  passengers — all  of  whom, 
except  the  murdered  man,  were  more  frightened  than 
hurt — got  upon  their  feet  and  were  helped  to  their 
places. 

"The  stage  driver,  somewhat  bruised  and  shaken, 
was  assisted  to  mount  his  box  and  take  the  reins 
once  more  in  his  hands,  and  so  the  coach  resumed  its 
journey. 

"Nothing  but  the  dead  man  on  the  roadside  and 
the  wretched  boy  in  custody  remained  to  tell  the  tale 
of  the  catastrophe. 

"The  dead  body  was  placed  on  a  hastily  procured 
plank,  and  borne  away  to  the  police  station  to  await 
the  action  of  the  coroner.  And  the  boy,  with  hand- 
cuffs on  his  wrists,  was  marched  off  between  two  con- 
stables to  the  lock-up  house. 

"Poor  Joe  was  no  hero.  This  violent  separation 
from  Lil;  this  stern  arrest  and  imprisonment;  this 
sudden,  overwhelming  calamity  was  so  wondrous,  so 
incredible  that  he  could  not  realize  or  believe  in  it, 
but  rather  imagined  himself  to  be  the  victim  of  some 
horrible  nightmare  dream  from  which  he  tried  to 
awaken. 

"Yet  still  he  told  a  pitiable  tale  to  the  constable 
of  how  he  had  been  unconsciously  drawn  into  that 
fatal  adventure,  and  begged  that  some  one  might  be 
sent  to  Hayhurst  to  his  little  wife,  to  tell  her  that  he 
was  only  detained  on  business,  and  would  return  to 
her  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could. 

"The  officer,  half  in  pity  for  the  boy,  half  in  im- 
patience at  bis  importunity,  I  suppose,  promised  to 


282  LILITH 

do  all  that  he  wished,  and  so  locked  hirn  up  for  the 
night. 

"Poor  Joe  was  but  a  child,  after  all,  and  he  cried 
all  night  long. 

"In  the  morning  he  was  taken  before  a  magistrate, 
and  charged  with  highway  robbery  and  murder — 
the  robbery  of  the  stage  coach  and  the  murder  of 
Lawyer  Ketcham. 

"Joe,  to  save  the  name  of  his  adopted  family  from 
reproach,  gave  his  own  as  John  Weston,  saying  to 
himself  that  he  had  about  as  much  right  to  the  one 
as  to  the  other. 

"He  told  his  little  story,  but  no  one  believed  it, 
and  he  was  duly  committed  to  jail,  to  take  his  trial 
at  the  forthcoming  assizes. 

"He  had  not  seen  or  heard  of  his  young  wife  since 
his  arrest. 

"Again  he  childishly  implored  constable  and  jailer 
not  to  let  Lil  know  the  truth  of  his  misery,  but  to 
send  her  word  that  he  was  detained  on  business,  and 
would  come  to  her  as  soon  as  he  could. 

"And,  as  before,  half  in  pity  and  half  in  impatience, 
they  promised  everything  he  required. 

"Joe  was  too  deeply  humiliated  to  write  to  any 
one.  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  about  the  support  of 
conscious  innocence,  but  it  is  reasonable  to  conclude 
that  a  man  who  is  by  his  nature  utterly  incapable  of 
crime  suffers  much  more  under  its  false  imputation 
than  does  the  darkest  of  criminals.  Conscious  inno 
cence  did  not  help  poor  little  Joe  much.  He  pined 
under  the  false  charge,  so  ashamed  of  it  that  he  could 
not  prevail  upon  himself  to  write  to  any  friend. 

"But  one  day  his  prison  door  wras  opened  and 
Joseph  Wyvil  entered  the  cell,  his  honest  face  full  of 
sympathy,  his  kind  eyes  full  of  tears,  his  voice  full  of 
affection,  as  he  stretched  out  his  hands  and  took  Joe's, 
saying: 


LILITH 

"  'My  poor,  poor  boy!' 

"  'You  don't  believe  I  did  it,  Joseph?'  said  Joe. 

"  'I  know  you  did  not.  I  know  you  could  not!'  an- 
swered Joseph,  pressing  the  hands  he  held. 

"  'And,  oh!   Lil!'  cried  Joe. 

"  'Lil  does  not  doubt  you ;  but  she  is  too  ill  to  come 
to  the  prison.  She  is  with  me  in  the  town  here.' 

"  'Xot — not — dangerously  ill?' 

"  'Oh,  no.  Only  prostrated;  but  confident  in  your 
innocence,  Joe.' 

"  'God  bless  her!  God  bless  you!  You  have  for- 
given us,  Joseph?' 

"  'I  forgave  you  from  the  first;  I  only  intended  to 
teach  you  a  lesson  by  holding  off  for  a  bit.  I  wish  I 
had  not  done  it  now.  Perhaps  if  I  had  not,  this  would 
not  have  happened;  but,  Joe,  it  will  all  come  right. 
I  will  take  care  of  Lil  until  you  are  out  again,  and 
I  will  spend  my  last  shilling  in  securing  the  best  coun- 
sel I  can  get  to  defend  you  and  to  clear  you,  Joe,  old 
fellow!' 

"  'Oh,  Joseph!  I  don't  deserve  it  from  you!  Not 
from  you!' 

"  'You  are  my  cousin  and  my  brother!'  said  honest 
Joseph. 

"It  is  nearly  impossible  to  give  the  exact  words  of 
this  conversation  from  memory;  but  such,  at  least, 
was  its  purport. 

"He  stayed  as  long  as  the  rules  of  the  prison  would 
permit,  and  then,  having  cheered  Joe  with  hopes  of  a 
happy  issue  out  of  his  trouble,  and  with  promises 
to  stand  by  him  to  the  end,  and  to  bring  Lil  to  see 
him  as  soon  as  she  should  be  able  to  come,  Joseph 
shook  hands  with  the  prisoner  and  left  him. 

"The  next  day  the  faithful  brother  returned  to  the 
jail  even  before  the  doors  were  opened,  and  waited 
until  he  could  be  admitted  to  see  Joe. 

"He  brought  cheering  news  that  he  had  engaged 


284.  LILITH 

the  services  of  one  of  the  most  distinguished  lawyers 
in  Carlisle,  Mr.  John  Rocke,  to  defend  the  accused 
boy,  and  that  the  counsel  would  visit  the  prisoner  in 
the  course  of  the  day. 

"  'But  how  is  Lil?'  eagerly  demanded  Joe,  more  con- 
cerned about  the  health  of  his  little  bride  than  about 
his  own  vindication  and  deliverance. 

"  'Lil  is  better  since  I  saw  you  and  reported  well 
of  you.  Poor  Lil  feared  that  you  would  be  as  heavily 
prostrated  as  she  has  been  by  this  sudden  and  over- 
whelming blow,  but  now  since  she  knows  that  you 
bear  it  so  bravely,  she  is  more  hopeful  and  conse- 
quently stronger.  I  shall  bring  her  to  see  you  to- 
morrow.' 

"  'Thank  Heaven  for  that!  But  as  to  my  bearing 
this  infernal  wrong ' 

"  'Don't  swear,  my  poor  boy,'  Joseph  mildly  inter- 
posed here. 

"  'I'm  not  swearing.  Infernal  isn't  an  oath;  but 
it  is  the  truth.  It  is  an  infernal  wrong,  and  I  have 
not  borne  it  bravely  at  all!  I  have  not  borne  it  in 
any  way  until  you  came  to  see  me,  dear  Joseph!' 
passionately  exclaimed  the  imprisoned  boy. 

"  'Stop  that  and  listen  to  all  the  messages  that  Lil 
has  sent  you,'  pleaded  Joseph. 

"And  then  to  attentive  ears  he  repeated  all  the 
loving,  confiding  and  encouraging  words  of  the  little 
bride  to  her  imprisoned  husband. 

"The  arrival  of  the  counsel,  Mr.  Rocke,  interrupted 
this  tete-a-tete. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  introduced  the  visitor  to  Joe. 

"And  then  when  the  three  men  were  seated — the 
lawyer  on  the  solitary  wooden  chair  and  Joseph  and 
Joe  side  by  side  on  the  narrow  cot — the  young  pris- 
oner told  his  story,  of  how  he  was  returning  home 
from  the  Orton  post-office  to  Hayhurst  Farm,  when 
he  accidentally  fell  in  with  a  gang  of  boys  who  told 


LILITH  285 

him  they  were  going  on  a  lark  and  pressed  him  to 
join  them;  how,  partly  from  curiosity  to  know  what 
they  were  going  to  do  and  partly  from  willingness 
to  oblige  them,  he  joined  the  gang  without  the  faint- 
est suspicion  that  they  intended  to  do  any  unlawful 
deed,  and  that  the  stopping  of  the  stage  coach  and 
the  murder  of  the  lawyer  came  upon  him  with  the 
sudden  shock  and  horror  of  an  earthquake. 

"  'I  said  the  murder  of  the  lawyer,  but  I  should 
rather  have  said  the  death  of  the  lawyer,  for  I  am  sure 
it  was  an  accident.' 

"  'An  accident!  Why,  he  was  certainly  shot  by  one 
of  the  assailants!'  said  Mr.  Rocke. 

"  'No,  he  was  shot  by  himself.' 

"  'By  himself!'  exclaimed  Messrs.  Rocke  and  Wyvil 
in  a  breath. 

"  'Yes;  listen,'  said  Joe.  'Now  that  I  can  look  back 
coolly  on  all  that  happened  and  put  things  together, 
I  can  understand  much  that  at  the  time  of  the  action 
was  incomprehensible  to  me.  And  1  am  sure  that  no 
violence  was  intended  beyond  the  seizure  of  a  docu- 
ment in  the  green  bag  of  the  family  solicitor.  When 
the  coach  was  overturned  I  thought  it  was  an  acci- 
dent, and  as  soon  as  I  recovered  from  the  momen- 
tary shock  I  ran  to  the  rescue.  In  the  mele"e,  through 
the  obscurity,  I  saw  two  men  struggling — one  of  the 
gang — Thomas  Estel — the  other  a  passenger  of  the 
coach — the  lawyer.  The  first  was  trying  to  get  pos- 
session of  the  bag,  the  second  was  holding  it  fast  to 
his  side  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  drawing  a 
pistol  from  his  breast  pocket,  which  he  leveled  at  his 
assailant.  Estel  struck  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  up, 
and  it  went  off,  shooting  the  lawyer  under  the  chin. 
There!  I  saw  all  that,'  said  Joe.  'And  the  next 
minute  the  posse  was  upon  us  and  I  was  in  custody. 
All  the  rest  of  the  gang  had  fled.' 

"  'And  as  usual,'  added  Joseph  Wyvil — 'as  usual, 


286  LILITH 

the  only  guiltless  one  of  the  party  became  the  scape- 
goat for  the  guilty.  Have  any  arrests  been  made 
since?' 

"  'Oh,  yes!  several  noted  roughs  and  poachers,  on 
suspicion,  but  every  one  proved  an  alibi  and  got  off.' 

"  'And  Estel?' 

"  'Estel  and  another  chap,  one  Burton,  both  respec- 
table young  farmers,  and  tenants  of  Squire  Hawk- 
hurst,  have  disappeared  from  the  neighborhood.' 

"  'Do  you  know,'  inquired  the  young  prisoner, 
'how  it  all  goes  on  at  the  Hall?  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  all  this  came  about  through  the  old  squire's 
wicked  will,  and  that  it  was  only  to  get  possession 
of  that  will  and  destroy  it  that  the  stage  coach  was 
stopped.' 

"  'Very  likely,'  replied  Mr.  Eocke.  'But  as  for 
affairs  at  the  Hall,  of  course,  after  the  death  of  the 
lawyer,  who  was  on  his  way  down  to  take  them  in 
charge,  the  bailiff,  who  was  entirely  in  the  interests  of 
the  discharged  nephew,  notified  Mr.  James,  who  had 
gone  to  town,  and  the  young  squire  arrived  in  time  to 
take  charge  of  his  uncle's  funeral.  After  which,  as 
heir-at-law,  he  entered  into  the  undisputed  possession 
of  the  estate,  inherited  not  only  from  his  immediate 
progenitor  who  had  no  just  right  to  cut  him  off  from 
it,  but  from  a  long  line  of  ancestors.' 

"  'Well,'  sighed  Joe,  'I  am  glad  he  enjoys  his  own 
again,  though  it  costs  so  much,  and  though  I  never 
would  have  joined  them  that  helped  him  to  it,  if  I 
had  known  they  were  going  to  break  the  peace.' 

"The  lawyer  questioned  Joe  farther  as  to  his  un- 
conscious connection  with  the  stage  robbers  of  that 
fatal  night,  and  after  noting  down  all  his  replies,  re- 
tired to  prepare  his  brief,  leaving  the  boy  cheered 
with  hope. 


LILITH  287 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  MEETING  OF  THE  YOUNG  PAIR 

Though  losses  and  crosses 
Be  lessons  right  severe, 
There's  wit  there,  ye'll  get  there, 
Yell  find  nae  ither  where. 

Robert  Burns. 

"EARLY  on  the  next  morning  Joseph  Wyvil  brought 
his  young  sister  to  the  prison  cell  to  see  her  husband, 

"But  notwithstanding  the  promise  that  the  big 
brother  had  extorted  from  each  of  the  unhappy  little 
pair,  that  they  would  control  their  feelings  and  be- 
have themselves,  no  sooner  had  Lil  passed  the  grated 
door,  entered  the  cell,  and  caught  sight  of  her  poor 
Joe,  than  she  flew  towards  him,  and  the  two  fell 
into  each  other's  arms  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  withdrew  from  the  cell  and  left 
them  together,  taking  his  seat  on  a  bench  in  the  cor- 
ridor beside  the  turnkey. 

"After  the  first  paroxysm  of  sobbing,  crying,  cares- 
sing and  pitying  each  other  had  exhausted  itself  and 
them,  they  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  be- 
gan to  talk  and  compare  notes. 

"And  their  conversation  was  something  like  this: 

"  'When  did  you  first  hear  of  my  trouble,  Lil?'  in- 
quired Joe. 

"  'Oh,  not  until  next  day.  Do  you  think  if  I  had 
known  it  that  night  I  wouldn't  have  walked  all  the 
way  to  the  lock-up  house  and  made  them  let  me  in 
to  stay  with  you?' 

"  'Yes;  but  they  wouldn't  have  done  it,  Lil.' 

"  'But  I  would  have  made  them  let  me.  I  would 
have  screamed  and  cried  so  they  would  have  been 
obliged  to  do  it.' 


288  LILITH 

"'Poor  little  Lil!' 

"  'But,  you  see,  a  man  came  and  told  me  a  passel 
of  lies.' 

"  'How  was  that,  Lil?' 

"  'Why,  you  see,  we  all  at  the  farm  sat  up  ever  so 
late,  waiting  for  you  to  come  home,  and  never  think- 
ing any  harm,  and  never  feeling  uneasy,  because  Mrs. 
Claxton  said  she  reckoned  as  the  old  squire  had  died 
so  sudden,  and  everybody  had  been  taken  so  by  sur- 
prise, and  everything  must  be  so  upside  down  at  the 
Hall,  that  maybe  you  had  been  called  on  to  give  some 
assistance,  like  going  of  a  message,  or  something.' 

"  'Yes.    Well,  Lil?' 

"  'So  we  were  not  anxious  about  you.  But  just 
about  an  hour  after  midnight  a  man  come  to  the 
house  with  a  message  from  you,  as  you  had  been  de- 
tained by  business,  but  would  come  to  me  as  soon 
as  you  could,  and  that  I  mustn't  wait  up,  but  must 
go  to  bed.  And  I  thought  you  were  at  the  Hall,  as 
they  said;  and  though  I  felt  disappointed,  and  very 
lonesome,  I  went  to  bed.' 

"  'Poor  little  Lil!' 

"  'And  it  was  all  lies,  Joe — all  lies!' 

"  'No,  it  wasn't,  dear  Lil;  it  was  the  truth.  I  was 
detained  on  business  (detained  in  the  lock-up  house, 
on  charge  of  felony),  and  I  did  mean  to  come  to  you 
as  soon  as  ever  I  could.  And  it  was  I  who  sent  that 
message  to  you.  I  did  it  so  you  could  get  some  sleep 
that  night,  dear  Lil!' 

"  'Oh,  Joe!' 

"  'But  how  did  you  hear  the  truth  at  last,  my  poor 
Lil?' 

"  'From  Joseph.' 

"'From  Joseph!' 

"  'Yes.  You  see,  Mr.  Claxton  heard  the  whole  truth 
from  the  man  who  came  the  night  before,  though  he 
never  let  on  to  me  that  he  had  heard  it.  And  he 


LILITH  289 

sent  a  telegram  to  Joseph  that  same  night.  How 
lucky  we  had  told  him  all  about  our  brother,  and 
where  he  lived!  Well,  I  think  Joseph  must  have  taken 
the  very  first  train  after  receiving  the  telegram,  for 
he  arrived  the  next  afternoon.' 

"  'Ah!  after  I  had  been  committed  for  trial,  and  had 
set  out  for  this  place.' 

"Yes;  I  suppose  so.  Well,  he  reached  the  farm 
about  five  o'clock;  and  he  had  so  much  self-control 
that  I  did  not  see  that  anything  was  wrong,  but  only 
thought  that  he  had  taken  pity  on  us  at  last,  and  had 
forgiven  us  and  come  to  say  so.  So,  after  lie  had 
kissed  me  a  good  many  kisses,  I  told  him  I  was  sorry 
Joe  wasn't  home,  but  that  Joe  was  over  at  the  Hall, 
where  the  old  squire  lay  dead.  That  was  what  I 
thought,  you  know.' 

"  'Yes.'' 

"  'Well,  then  he  told  me  that  you  had  gone  to  Car- 
lisle on  business  connected  with  the  death  of  the 
old  squire  that  would  keep  you  there  some  time;  he 
thought  it  best  to  take  me  on  there,  too.  Oh,  how 
cunning  he  was,  Joe!' 

"  'How  wrise  and  merciful,  you  mean,  Lil.' 

"  'Well,  anyhow,  I  thanked  him  with  all  my  heart. 
There  wasn't  another  train  that  stopped  at  Orton 
that  night,  so  we  had  to  wait  and  take  the  early  one 
the  next  morning;  and  that  we  did.  And  oh,  Joe! 
I  heard  the  peoplpe  at  the  station,  and  on  the  train, 
too,  talking  about  the  highway  robbery  and  murder, 
and  saying  such  a  thing  had  not  occurred  in  that 
neighborhood  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  in- 
habitant; and  talking  about  a  stranger  by  the  name 
of  John  Weston,  who  was  the  ringleader  of  it,  and 
saying  that  he  had  been  committed  to  prison  the  day 
before  to  stand  his  trial  at  the  next  assizes.  And  oh, 
Joe!  while  I  listened  with  the  greatest  curiosity  and 


290  LILITH 

interest  to  all  that,  I  had  not  the  least  idea  that  John 
Weston  was  you!' 

"Here  Lil  lost  her  self-control  again,  threw  her- 
self into  Joe's  arms,  and  burst  into  a  storm  of  sobs 
and  tears,  in  which  her  boy-husband  joined  her  with 
all  his  might. 

"When  this  tempest  subsided,  Lil,  between  gasps, 
resumed  her  discourse  by  asking  a  question: 

"  'What  made  you  call  yourself  John  Weston?' 

"  'To  save  the  family  credit,  and  because  I  had  as 
much  right  to  that  name,  or  to  any  other,  as  to  the 
one  I  wear.' 

"  'Well,  then,  we  got  to  this  city  yesterday  noon, 
and  went  to  a  quiet  inn.  And  I  wanted  to  be  taken 
at  once  to  see  you,  never  dreaming  of  where  you 
were.  But  Joseph  said  you  were  engaged  in  busi- 
ness at  the  time,  and  that  we  could  have  some  lunch- 
eon first  and  then  go  to  you.  I  was  half  angry,  but 
as  I  was  hungry  I  agreed  to  take  some  coffee  and 
sandwiches.  And  after  that,  when  I  insisted  on 
going  to  you,  Joseph  told  me  you  were  in  a  little 
trouble.  He  didn't  mean  to  tell  me  how  bad  it  was, 
but  just  to  prepare  nie  to  see  you  in  prison;  but  some- 
how I  seemed  to  guess  all  at  once  that  you  were 
the  John  Weston  they  had  been  talking  about  on  the 
train,  and  though  I  never  could  believe  anything  bad 
of  you  for  one  single  minute,  and  didn't  then,  Joe, 
yet  somehow  or  other  it  floored  me  quite  and  left  me 
for  dead  like,  for  when  I  came  to  myself  it  was  dark, 
and  there  was  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  sitting  by  me. 
That  was  night  before  last.  I  believe  they  gave  me 
something  to  make  me  stupid  and  sleepy,  for  I  know 
I  slept  almost  constantly  day  and  night  until  this 
morning,  when  they  let  me  get  up  to  come  to  you — 
oh,  Joe!' 

"  'Lil!  Lil!  Don't  cry  any  more!  You  will  make 
yourself  ill,'  pleaded  Joe. 


LILITH  291 

"And  Lil  gasped,  recovered  and  warded  off  a  third 
attack. 

"  'They  all  knew  all  about  it  before  I  knew  a  word. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Claxton,  and  afterwards  Joseph,  as  well 
as  everybody  else,  I  reckon,  heard  of  your  arrest  and 
of  your  explanation  of  your  presence  with  the  party 
that  stopped  the  coach  that  night,  and  they  all  be- 
lieved you  told  the  truth,  Joe!  Every  one  of  them 
did,  and  of  course  I  knew  you  did  when  Joseph  told 
me  about  it.' 

"  'Oh,  it  is  so  comforting  to  think  my  own  friends 
and  neighbors  believe  me,'  sighed  Joe. 

"The  two  would  have  talked  much  longer,  no  doubt^ 
but  Joseph  Wyvil  spoke  through  the  grating  and  told 
Joe  that  Mr.  Rocke,  his  counsel,  was  waiting  in  the 
corridor  to  speak  to  him. 

"Then  Lil  took  leave  of  Joe,  promising  to  come  back 
as  often  and  to  stay  as  long  as  prison  rules  would 
allow. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  showed  Mr.  Rocke  into  the  cell  and 
led  Lil  out,  and  took  her  home  to  the  quiet  lodgings 
he  had  provided  for  her. 

"After  this,  Lil  went  every  morning  to  see  her  boy- 
husband,  and  was  permitted  by  the  kindness  of  the 
governor  to  spend  most  of  the  day  with  him. 

"Mr.  Rocke,  the  counsel,  and  Joseph  Wyvil,  the 
brother,  did  all  they  could  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of 
the  young  pair,  and  succeeded  better  than  any  out- 
sider could  have  believed. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   TRIAL 

"AND  so  the  time  passed  to  the  day  on  which  the 
judges  entered  the  town  to  hold  the  assizes. 


LILITH 

"The  docket  was  an  unusually  full  one  for  this 
term,  and  many  cases  had  to  be  tried  before  that  of 
John  Weston,  charged  with  the  murder  of  John 
Ketcham,  was  called. 

"The  remarkable  feature  in  this  case  was  the  fact 
that  it  involved  the  first  case  of  highway  robbery  that 
had  occurred  in  that  neighborhood  for  more  than  half 
a  century,  and  seemed  the  revival  of  a  phase  of  crime 
that  had  passed  into  history  and  should  have  been 
impossible  in  this  age. 

"The  case  drew  a  large  concourse  of  people  to  the 
town,  and  on  the  first  day  of  the  trial  filled  the  court- 
room almost  to  suffocation. 

"But  great  was  the  surprise  of  the  throng  of  spec- 
tators, when  the  atrocious  criminal  was  brought  in, 
to  see  a  slight,  dark-eyed  and  curly-haired  boy,  only 
eighteen  years  of  age,  and  looking  three  years 
younger,  placed  in  the  dock. 

"Many  whispered  comments  passed  through  the 
crowd,  as  they  gazed  at  the  youthful  prisoner.  Here 
he  stood  lifted  up  in  full  view  above  everybody's 
heads,  a  target  for  all  glances,  looking,  not  frightened, 
but  quiet,  subdued,  and  deeply  humiliated  by  his  posi- 
tion; looking  anything  rather  than  the  brigand  and 
desperado  they  had  expected  to  see. 

"When  the  preliminaries  of  the  proceedings  were 
over,  and  the  young  prisoner  was  arraigned,  he 
pleaded : 

"  'Not  guilty.' 

"The  opening  charge  of  the  prosecuting  attorney 
was  a  tremendous  assault  upon  the  accused  boy,  as 
if  in  his  slight  form  was  incarnated  the  spirit  of  re- 
volt, robbery,  murder,  treason,  and  all  manner  of  evil, 
danger  and  perdition;  and  as  if  the  safety  of  her 
majesty's  people  and  dominions  required  the  imme- 
diate death  by  hanging  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

"Poor  Joe  was  not  at  this  time  and  in  this  place  a 


LILITH  293 

hero,  it  is  sad  to  say!  He  was  a  very  sensitive  and 
impressible  boy,  and  hearing  the  prosecuting  attor- 
ney go  on  at  him  at  this  rate,  Joe  was — so  to  speak — 
psychologized  by  him  and  led  to  look  upon  himself, 
the  prisoner,  as  an  incarnate  fiend,  though  he  had 
never  even  suspected  the  fact  before.  Now,  under 
this  scathing  denunciation,  the  poor  wretch  bowed 
his  head  and  looked  so  guilty  that  men  groaned  and 
women  sighed  to  see  such  deep  depravity  in  one  so 
young. 

"At  the  end  of  the  prosecutor's  opening  charge, 
that  officer  called  the  first  witness — Paul  Cartright 
— who,  being  duly  sworn,  testified  that  he  was  a 
county  constable,  and  about  midnight  on  the  night 
of  the  18th  ultimo  he  had  been  alarmed  by  cries  for 
help  coming  from  that  section  of  the  high  road  that 
passes  through  Downdingle,  and,  with  others,  hurried 
to  the  scene,  where  he  found  the  stage-coach  that 
runs  between  Orton  Village  and  Orton  Station  over- 
turned and  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen,  or  about 
that  number,  of  masked  men.  As  he  and  his  com- 
panions approached,  he  heard  a  pistol  fired  and  saw 
a  man  fall.  The  masked  men  turned  and  fled  into 
the  thickets  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  were  soon 
lost  to  the  pursuers,  who  gave  their  attention  to  see- 
ing to  the  wounded  and  righting  the  coach.  He,  Paul 
Cartright,  had  caught  one  man  in  the  act  of  flight- 
had  caught  him,  red-handed,  grasping  the  pistol  with 
which  he  had  just  murdered  the  victim 

"  'Judge!  Your  honor!  oh,  your  honor!  I  never 
fired  that  pistol!  I  stooped  to  see  if  I  could  do  any- 
thing for  the  fallen  man,  and  seeing  he  was  quite 
dead,  I  picked  up  the  pistol  from  the  ground,  with- 
out knowing  what  I  was  doing,  and  then  the  con- 
stable there  took  me!'  burst  forth  poor  Joe,  before 
any  one  could  stop  him. 

"He  was  sternly  called  to  order  by  the  court,  and 


294.  LILITH 

then  instructed  in  a  whisper  bj  his  counsel  that  he 
was  on  no  account  to  speak  again  until  he  should  be 
spoken  to. 

"Joe,  crestfallen  and  despairing,  subsided  into 
silence. 

"  'Do  you  see  the  man  whom  you  took  red-handed, 
as  you  say,  standing  pistol  in  hand  over  his  slain  vic- 
tim?' inquired  the  prosecutor. 

"  'Yes,  sir;  that  is  the  man,'  replied  the  witness, 
pointing  to  the  young  prisoner  in  the  dock. 

"Joe  shook  his  head  in  desperation,  but  said  never 
a  word. 

"The  pistol  was  then  produced,  and  identified  by 
the  witness  as  the  one  he  had  taken  from  the  prisoner 
at  the  bar. 

"A  ball  was  produced,  and  identified  by  the  next 
witness,  Dr.  Yorke,  who  performed  the  autopsy 
on  the  deceased  lawyer,  as  the  bullet  extracted  from 
the  dead  body.  It  was  found  to  fit  the  empty  cham- 
ber of  the  revolver,  and  to  correspond  perfectly  with 
the  other  bullets  with  which  it  had  been  loaded. 

"Pistol  and  bullets  were  handed  to  the  jury,  and 
passed  from  man  to  man — conclusive  evidence  of  the 
guilt  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

"Several  other  witnesses  were  examined,  all  of 
whom  corroborated  the  testimony  of  the  first  one. 

"Joe  thought  his  case  was  gone,  and  he  felt  thank- 
ful that  Lil  was  not  there  to  hear  evidence  that  might 
even  have  shaken  her  faith  in  him,  since  it  had  de- 
stroyed his  faith  in  himself. 

"But  at  length  the  case  for  the  prosecution  was 
closed,  and  the  court  took  a  recess. 

"Then  Mr.  Kocke  caine  around  to  the  dock,  and 
sat  down  and  talked  with  his  client,  and  encouraged 
him  until  his  fainting  self-esteem  was  in  some  degree 
restored. 

"After  recess  the  court  reassembled,  and  the  de- 


295 

fence  was  opened  in  a  most  eloquent  speech  by  Mr. 
Rocke. 

"He  told  the  whole  story  of  'John  Weston's'  purely 
accidental  connection  with  the  party  of  young  roughs 
who  had  stopped  the  stage-coach,  not  either  with 
any  intention  of  mail  robbery,  murder  or  any  other 
great  violence,  but  merely  to  get  possession  of  a  cer- 
tain document  held  by  the  deceased  lawyer. 

"He  dwelt  upon  the  young  prisoner's  total  igno- 
rance of  their  plans  and  incomplicity  with  their 
offence. 

"He  described  the  purely  accidental  shooting  of  the 
lawyer  by  the  pistol  held  in  the  deceased's  own  hand, 
leveled  at  one  of  the  assailants,  and  knocked  up  by 
the  assailant  in  self-defence,  so  that  it  went  off,  send- 
ing a  bullet  under  the  chin,  and  upward  and  backward 
through  the  brain.  He  bade  them  see  how  easy, 
natural  and  inevitable  such  an  accident  must  be. 

"He  described  the  humane  impulse  of  the  boy  spec- 
tator, now  the  unhappy  young  prisoner  at  the  bar. 
He  told  how  he  had  seen  the  catastrophe;  how  he  had 
run  to  the  rescue,  had  bent  over  the  fallen  man,  but 
finding  him  dead,  had  picked  up  the  pistol,  and  with- 
out an  idea  of  escaping,  as  the  guilty  ones  had  done, 
stood  there  gazing  at  the  dead  in  a  sort  of  panic,  no 
doubt,  until  he  was  taken  into  custody  by  the  con- 
stable. 

''Was  this,  he  asked,  the  conduct  of  a  guilty  man? 
The  guilty  had  fled — had  finally  escaped — had  never 
been  recaptured.  But  had  this  young  man  ever  even 
attempted  to  fly? 

"He  would  bring  witnesses  to  prove  the  unblem- 
ished good  character  of  his  client,  and  to  prove  that 
en  the  fatal  night  of  the  robbery  and  the  murder  he, 
the  accused,  so  far  from  having  any  share  in  the  con- 
spiracy to  stop  the  mail  coach,  had  returned  to  his 
home  to  spend  the  evening  with  his  newly-married 


296  LILITH 

wife,  and  had  gone  again  only  at  the  request  of  his 
landlady,  and  on  a  neighborly  errand.  It  was  after 
having  executed  this  errand,  and  while  he  was  on 
his  way  home,  that  he  chanced  most  unhappily  to 
fall  in  with  the  party  of  young  ruffians  who  stopped 
the  coach.  He  had  no  hand  in  their  offence,  and  was 
taken  while  trying  to  render  assistance  to  the  victim. 

"Then  Counsellor  Rocke  called  Joseph  Wyvil,  of 
Stockton. 

"Joseph  Wyvil,  who  had  just  come  into  court, 
being  sworn,  testified  that  he  knew  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  and  had  known  him  since  he,  the  prisoner, 
was  four  years  of  age — that  is,  for  fourteen  years — 
and  that  most  intimately  at  home  and  at  school,  and 
had  never  known  him  to  be  untruthful,  dishonest  or 
cruel  in  all  that  time,  and  could  not  possibly  believe 
him  to  be  capable  of  the  crime  for  which  he  was  there 
arraigned. 

"Wyvil  was  cross-examined  by  the  prosecutor  as 
to  whether  he  really  never  knew  the  prisoner  to  vary 
in  the  least  from  the  truth,  or  to  take  liberties  with 
the  sweetmeats,  or  to  tease  cats,  or  to  do  any  little 
thing  that  might  trench  upon  the  borders  of  false- 
hood, theft  or  cruelty. 

"But  all  this  only  brought  out  the  most  positive 
declaration  of  the  witness  that  he  had  not. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  was  then  allowed  to  sit  down,  and 
Belinda  Claxton  was  called  to  the  stand. 

"Being  sworn,  this  witness  testified  that  she  knew 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  who  had  been  her  lodger  for 
two  months  up  to  the  time  of  his  arrest;  that  on 
the  night  of  the  highway  robbery  and  murder  he 
had  come  home  to  tea,  and  had  arranged  to  spend 
the  evening  with  his  wife,  and  herself  and  her  hus- 
band, to  play  a  game  of  whist,  but  that  news  had 
come  of  the  old  squire's  sudden  death,  and  that  she 
had  persuaded  him,  the  prisoner,  to  walk  over  to  the 


LILITH  297 

Hall  and  see  if  the  report  was  true.  That  he  went 
off,  promising  to  be  back  in  half  an  hour,  or  in  an 
hour  at  most.  When  he  failed  to  come  she  only 
thought  that  he  had  been  detained  at  the  Hall. 

"Mrs.  Claxton  was  also  cross-examined  as  to  when 
this  whist  party  had  been  arranged.  She  answered 
that  it  had  been  settled  before  the  prisoner  had  gone 
out  to  the  post-office  that  afternoon,  that  he  was  to 
return  to  an  early  tea,  and  play  whist  all  the  evening. 

"Mrs.  Claxton  was  allowed  to  retire. 

"John  Claxton,  husband  of  the  last  witness,  was 
called,  and  corroborated  her  testimony  in  every  item. 

"Then  the  prosecutor  got  up  to  deliver  the  clos- 
ing address  to  the  jury.  He  made  very  light  of  the 
testimony  for  the  defence,  showing,  or  attempting  to 
show,  the  jury  that  it  really  proved  nothing,  and  had 
so  little  to  do  with  the  charge  against  the  prisoner 
that  it  might  well  have  been  ruled  out  as  irrelevant, 
impertinent  and  vexatious.  He  exhorted  the  jurors 
to  do  their  stern  duty  as  British  jurors  to  punish  red- 
handed  crime;  to — and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

"The  judge  arose  to  make  the  final  charge.  It  was 
all  against  the  prisoner.  His  honor  considered  the 
evidence  for  the  prosecution  as  quite  conclusive; 
the  evidence  advanced  by  the  defence  as  weak  and 
inconsequential.  And  charged  the  jury  to  bring  in  a 
verdict  in  accordance  with  the  facts  proven. 

"Criminal  trials  of  this  sort  are  soon  concluded  in 
England.  They  do  not  waste  so  much  time  or  spend 
so  much  money  as  we  do  over  them. 

"The  jury  retired  to  their  room  for  half  an  hour, 
during  which  poor  Joe  waited  in  an  agony  of  sus- 
pense as  great  as  human  nature  can  endure  and  live 
— in  an  agony  that  seemed  to  stretch  that  half  hour 
into  an  eternity  of  suffering;  and  then  the  jury  filed 
in  and  rendered  their  verdict : 

"  'GUILTY.' 


298  LILITH 

"Joe  sprang  up  and  fell  back  on  his  seat  as  if  lie 
had  been  shot. 

"  'It  will  be  a  murder,  you  know,  Mr.  Rocke.  Poor 
Lil!'  he  cried  to  his  counsel,  who  came  to  his  side. 

"He  was  quickly  called  to  order  and  directed  to 
stand  up. 

"With  as  strong  an  effort  at  self-control  as  his 
boyish  soul  was  capable  of  making,  he  obeyed  and 
faced  the  court. 

"He  was  then  asked  whether  he  had  anything  to  say 
why  sentence  of  death  should  not  be  pronounced  upon 
him. 

"He  answered  that  he  had  a  great  deal  to  say. 
And  then  in  eager,  vehement,  impassioned,  yet  most 
respectful  language,  he  asseverated  his  innocence,  and 
told  again  the  often  repeated  true  story  of  his  con- 
nection with  the  young  men  who  had  stopped  the 
stage-coach. 

"The  court  heard  him  patiently,  and  then,  when 
he  had  ceased  to  speak,  the  judge  put  on  the  black 
cap  and  proceeded  to  sentence  the  boy. 

"He  told  him  the  enormity  of  the  crime  of  which 
he  had  been  guilty,  the  fairness  of  the  trial  he  had 
stood,  the  ability  with  which  he  had  been  defended, 
the  justice  of  the  verdict,  the  justice  also  of  his  sen- 
tence, the  hopelessness  of  any  thought  of  mercy  in 
this  world,  the  necessity  of  seeking  mercy  from  a 
higher  tribunal,  and  finally  he  pronounced  the  ghastly 
sentence  of  the  law,  and  ended  with  the  prayer  that 
the  Lord  might  have  mercy  on  his  soul! 

"  'Poor  Lil!'  was  all  the  boy  said,  as  the  bailiffs 
led  him  away. 

"And  the  court  was  adjourned. 


LILITH  299 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

IX   THE  TOILS   OF  FATE 

"JOB  was  conveyed  back  to  his  prison  cell  and 
locked  up  and  left  there  in  a  state  of  stupefaction. 

"Joseph  Wyvil,  who  had  heard  the  verdict,  was  not 
able  to  get  near  the  unfortunate  boy,  who  had  been 
hurried  from  the  dock  to  the  prison  van  by  the  officers 
in  attendance.  And  though  he  followed  the  prisoner 
with  all  speed  to  the  jail,  he  was  not  admitted  to  see 
him  because  it  was  after  the  hour  of  closing. 

"He  managed  to  see  the  jail  chaplain  and  implore 
him,  late  as  it  was,  to  visit  the  desolate  boy  in  his 
cell  that  night. 

"'The  reverend  gentleman  willingly  promised  to  do 
so,  and  Joseph  Wyvil  left  the  prison,  with  what  a 
heavy  heart!  to  go  to  his  most  unhappy  sister  and 
answer  as  best  he  might  the  agonizing  questions  she 
would  be  sure  to  put  to  him. 

"Ah!  the  dreadful  intelligence  had  preceded  him 
to  Lil's  lodgings,  and  prostrated  her  frail  frame  to  the 
very  verge  of  death. 

"He  found  the  doctor  in  attendance,  and  ike  young 
wife,  pale  as  a  corpse,  sleeping  heavily  under  the 
influence  of  a  powerful  narcotic. 

"  'How  did  she  hear  it?'  was  one  of  the  first  ques- 
tions put  by  the  unhappy  brother. 

"  'By  the  yelling  of  the  people  in  the  street.  We 
could  hardly  keep  her  from  going  to  the  court-room; 
we  couldn't  keep  her  away  from  the  windows,  watch- 
ing for  you  and  her  husband  to  come  back  arm  in 
arm.  She  was  so  confident  he  would  be  acquitted! 
For  she  said  he  was  innocent,  and  being  innocent, 
eould  not  be  found  guilty  and  must  be  acquitted/ 
replied  their  landlady. 


300  LILITH 

"  'Ah!  she  knew  nothing  of  the  power  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  to  convict  an  innocent  man !'  groaned 
Joseph. 

"  'Why,  sir,  she  even  packed  her  trunk  to  return 
to  Stockton,  for  she  said  that  neither  she  nor  her 
husband,  nor  her  brother,  would  want  to  stay  another 
night  in  the  town  where  they  had  suffered  so  much, 
but  would  take  the  first  train  back  to  their  cottage 
and  be  at  peace.' 

"  'Poor  child!    Poor  child!' 

"  'And  then,  while  she  was  watching  for  you  and 
him  from  the  window,  and  turning  round  every  few 
minutes  to  ask  me  to  be  sure  to  keep  the  water  boil- 
ing so  as  to  make  tea  the  minute  they  should  come 
in,  or  to  please  have  the  bacon  grilled  to  a  turn,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  all  of  a  sudden  she  heard  the 
boys  in  the  street  shouting  to  one  another  that  Wes- 
ton,  the  mail-robber,  was  found  guilty  and  sentenced 
to  be  hanged  o'  Monday  week!' 

"  'She  heard  that?    Oh,  poor  Lil!' 

"  'She  heard  that,  sir,  and  afore  any  one  could 
stop  her  she  was  out  in  the  street,  in  the  freezing 
winter  night,  without  shawl  or  bonnet,  to  inquire  into 
the  truth.  I  just  whipped  a  plaid  shawl  over  my 
head  and  ran  out  to  fetch  her  in.  I  found  her  pros- 
trate and  insensible  on  the  ground,  with  a  crowd  of 
people  gathered  around  her.  We  raised  her  and 
brought  her  in  and  laid  her  on  the  bed  and  brought 
her  to.  But  as  soon  as  she  got  back  her  senses  to 
know  what  had  happened,  she  fell  into  such  convul- 
sions that  we  had  to  send  for  Dr.  Yorke,  and  he  gave 
her  summat  to  quiet  her  and  put  her  to  sleep.  And 
that's  all,  sir,'  concluded  the  landlady. 

"The  doctor  gave  directions  for  the  treatment  of 
his  patient  during  the  night,  and  left,  promising  to 
return  early  the  next  morning. 


LILITH  301 

"The  tired  landlady  went  to  rest,  asking  to  be  called 
at  any  time  if  she  should  be  wanted. 

"And  Joseph  Wyvil  took  his  seat  by  the  bedside 
of  his  unfortunate  sister,  to  watch  her  sleep  and  dread 
her  waking. 

"A  low  taper  burned  on  a  little  table  behind  a 
screen.  And  all  the  room  was  obscure  and  silent  as  a 
cave. 

"Lil  slept  on  quietly,  and  Joseph  was  almost 
tempted  to  hope  that  Lil  might  wake  only  in  that 
happier  world  where  'there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  crying  nor  sorrow.' 

"Joseph  Wyvil  was  a  faithful  Christian  man,  and 
found  his  greatest  support  during  this  long  miserable 
nigl  t  watch  in  praying  for  Lil  and  for  Joe. 

"The  late  winter  morning  had  dawned  when  Lil 
awoke. 

"She  awoke  very  quietly,  and  although  she  opened 
her  eyes,  looked  about,  saw  her  brother  seated  by  her 
bed,  and  evidently  by  the  change  that  passed  over 
her  face,  remembered  all  that  had  happened  since 
yesterday,  yet  there  was  no  outburst  of  grief.  The 
effect  of  the  narcotic  yet  remained  in  the  blunted  sen- 
sibilities. But  though  her  feelings  were  dulled,  her 
intellect  was  clear  enough;  and  although  there  was 
no  outbreak  of  sorrow,  yet  the  look  of  deep  despair 
that  settled  on  her  face  showed  how  profoundly  she 
realized  the  situation. 

"  'Lil!  Lil,  my  darling  sister/  muttered  Joseph 
Wyvil,  bending  over  her. 

"  'Let  me  go  to  him,  Joseph!  Oh,  please  let  me  go 
to  him.  I  will  behave  myself.  Indeed  I  will  behave 
myself,  Joseph,'  she  pleaded. 

"  'Yes,  dear,  you  shall  go  just  as  soon  as  the  doors 
are  opened  to  admit  visitors.' 

"She  put  out  her  hand  and  pressed  his. 

"  'But,  darling  Lil,  you  need  not  give  up  hope.    All 


302  LILITH 

is  not  lost  yet,  Lil!  I  mean  to  get  up  a  strong  petition 
in  his  behalf.  He  is  so  young.  There  are  so  many 
circumstances  in  his  favor.  Lil,  I  am  nearly  certain 
we  can  get  his  sentence  commuted  to  transportation 
for  life.  And  then  we  also  will  go  out  to  Australia, 
to  be  near  him.  And  if  he  conducts  himself  well, 
as  he  will  be  sure  to  do,  having  so  much  at  stake, 
he  will  get  a  ticket  of  leave.  And  after  a  few  weeks, 
Lil,  we'll  not  be  any  worse  off  than  if  we  had  emi- v 
grated,  you  know.  Are  you  listening,  Lil?' 

"  'Yes,  Joseph.  Oh,  take  me  to  him.  I  want  to  go 
to  him  so  much.  I  will  behave  myself  so  well.' 

"  'Yes,  dear.  Just  as  soon  as  ever  I  can  do  so. 
Keep  up  your  heart.' 

"  'If  he  dies  I  shall  die  too,  and  in  a  fortnight  all 
will  be  over,  and  we  two  shall  meet  on  the  other  side, 
never  to  part  any  more.' 

"  'Don't  speak  so  hopelessly,  dear  Lil.  I  feel  sure 
in  my  own  mind  that  we  shall  win  a  commutation 
of  his  sentence,  and  then  the  worst  that  can  happen 
to  us  will  be  that  we  shall  have  to  go  to  Australia; 
and  that  may  turn  out  to  be  the  very  best  that  could 
happen.' 

"Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  rap  at 
the  door,  followed  by  the  entrance  of  the -landlady 
with  a  small  bowl  of  beef  tea  for  the  poor  girl. 

"'Oh,  I  thank  you;  but  indeed  I  cannot  take  any- 
thing,' said  Lil,  when  this  refreshment  was  offered  to 
her. 

"  'Come,  now,  I  want  you  to  drink  this  because  it 
will  do  you  good.  And  you  promised  to  behave,  you 
know,'  said  her  brother. 

"  'I  will  drink  it  then,'  said  Lil,  with  perfect 
docility.  And  so  well  was  the  liquid  seasoned  that 
on  tasting  it  she  drank  it  without  reluctance  and  even 
with  benefit. 


LILITH  303 

"The  landlady  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  with  the 
empty  bowl  in  her  hand,  when  the  doctor  entered  it. 

" Joseph  Wyvil  arose  and  bowed,  and  yielded  hidf 
place  by  the  bedside  to  the  physician,  who  seated 
himself  and  proceeded  to  examine  his  patient. 

"  'She  is  going  on  well,  yet  I  would  recommend  a 
continuance  of  the  same  treatment  for  a  while  longer. 
She  should  be  kept  somewhat  under  the  influence 
of  sedatives  to  tide  her  over  this  trial,'  was  his  whis- 
pered advice  to  Joseph  Wyvil,  as  he  arose  to  leave 
the  room. 

"He  wrote  a  prescription  and  minute  directions  for 
its  administration,  and  then  took  leave. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  went  down  to  his  breakfast  and  sent 
up  the  landlady's  servant  to  assist  Lil  in  rising  and 
dressing  to  go  to  the  jail. 

"Joseph  called  a  carriage,  but  before  he  put  her 
into  it  administered  a  dose  of  that  merciful  medicine 
sent  by  the  doctor  to  quiet  her  nerves  and  blunt  her 
feelings,  if  it  could  not  obscure  her  intelligence. 

"And  so  they  drove  to  the  jail  and  were  admitted 
to  the  presence  of  poor  Joe. 

"The  jail  doctor  and  the  chaplain  had  done  their 
part,  and  the  doomed  boy  was  much  calmer  than  he 
had  been  on  the  preceding  day. 

"The  stricken  young  pair  met  without  any  violent 
outbreak  of  emotion.  Each  grew  paler  as  they  em- 
braced, and  neither  could  speak  to  the  other  at  first. 
They  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  cot,  with  their 
hands  clasped  together. 

"Joseph  Wyvil,  after  taking  and  pressing  his 
brother's  hand,  drew  the  chair  and  seated  himself 
before  them,  and  began  to  talk  of  the  petition  for 
the  commutation  of  Joe's  sentence  he  intended  that 
day  to  set  on  foot.  Mr.  Rocke,  he  said,  would  draw 
it  up,  and  he  thought  that  judge  and  jury  would  sign, 
it  as  well  as  many  clergymen  and  other  citizens.  He 


304  LILITH 

himself  would  take  it  up  to  the  Home  Secretary.  He 
felt  sure,  he  said,  that  the  petition  would  be  granted, 
and  that  transportation  for  life  would  be  the  very 
worst  that  Joe  would  have  to  suffer.  Beyond  every 
reasonable  cause  for  believing  this,  Joseph  declared 
that  he  felt  an  interior  confidence  that  was  prophetic, 
for  which  he  could  not  account. 

"  'And  then,  Joe,  your  fate  will  not  be  hard.  It 
will  depend  upon  yourself  to  make  it  easy.  If  you 
behave  yourself,  you  will  find  it  light  enough,  from 
all  that  I  can  hear.  You  will  be  taken  as  some  gentle- 
man's valet,  or  even  secretary,  and  after  a  while  get 
your  ticket  of  leave,  and  in  due  time  your  pardon ' 

"  'Pardon  for  what  I  never  did!'  said  Joe. 

"  'Be  patient,  dear  boy!  There  be  a  deal  of  unde- 
served suffering  in  this  world  for  which  there  must 
be  compensation  somewhere.  And  after  all,  Joe, 
there  is  many  a  free  emigrant  who  has  suffered  and 
will  suffer  more  than  you  need  to  do.  And  listen 
to  this,  Joe.  After  a  year  or  two,  just  as  soon  as  I 
have  made  money  enough  to  carry  us  through,  I  will 
bring  Lil  out  to  you  and  we  will  all  live  out  there 
together,  and  it  will  depend  only  on  ourselves,  under 
the  Divine  Providence,  whether  we  prosper.' 

"  'We  have  not  got  the  commutation  yet,'  said  Joe, 
despondently. 

"  'But  we  will  get  it,'  replied  Joseph,  confidently. 

"At  this  moment  Mr.  Rocke  entered  the  cell  with 
the  petition  in  his  hand. 

"Joseph  ceded  his  chair  and  took  a  seat  on  the  foot 
of  the  cot. 

"After  shaking  hands  with  the  prisoner,  his  wife 
and  brother,  Mr.  Rocke  read  the  petition,  and  produc- 
ing a  pocket  pen  and  ink-stand,  asked  for  their  signa- 
tures. 

"Joe  signed  his  name  first,  Lil  next,  adding  naively 
on  the  same  line:  'Oh,  ptease,  please.' 


LILITH  305 

"Mr.  Rocke  frowned,  smiled,  but  let  it  stand. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  then  signed  his  name. 

"And  then  the  two  men  left  the  cell  to  go  and 
take  the  petition  around  the  town,  leaving  Lil  with 
Joe. 

"By  this  time  all  of  the  boy's  history  was  known 
to  the  townspeople.  Joseph  Wyvil  had  given  it  <o 
the  lawyer,  at  first  retaining  him.  The  lawyer  had 
given  it  to  the  reporter  of  the  Guardian  on  the  eve- 
ning of  the  trial,  and  the  whole  story  was  published 
in  this  morning's  issue,  together  with  the  report  of 
the  trial. 

"There  was  a  reaction  in  public  sentiment.  Much 
doubt  was  entertained  of  the  prisoner's  complicity 
with  the  crime  for  which  he  had  been  condemned. 
Much  pity  was  felt  for  him  and  for  his  child-wife,  in 
their  extreme  youth  and  utter  despair.  The  petition 
for  the  commutation  of  his  sentence  was  signed  by 
judge,  jury,  magistrates,  clergymen  and  citizens  of  all 
rank. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  and  Mr.  Rocke  took  it  up  to  Lon- 
don together  and  laid  it  before  the  Home  Secretary. 

"Three  wreary  days  passed  before  they  could  ob- 
tain a  hearing.  Then  five  tedious  days  before  any 
action  was  taken  on  the  petition. 

"During  all  this  time  Joseph  Wyvil  wrote  daily 
letters  full  of  confidence  and  encouragement  to  l\\» 
waiting,  breathlessly  anxious  sister  and  brother. 

"At  length,  on  the  ninth  day,  Joseph  Wyvil  and 
Mr.  Rocke  received  the  commutation  and  started  with 
it  for  Carlisle. 

"It  was  after  the  hours  of  closing  the  prison.  But 
they  could  not  easily  consent  to  leave  the  prisoner, 
who  was  now  the  object  of  the  royal  clemency,  one 
more  sleepless  night  of  agonizing  suspense. 

"So  while  Joseph  Wyvil  went  home  to  gladden  the 
heart  of  his  sister  with  the  good  news,  Mr.  Rocke 


306  LILITH 

went  to  the  house  of  the  chaplain  and  with  him  to 
the  governor  of  the  jail,  and  so  gained  admittance  to 
the  cell. 

"Joe,  who  had  parted  with  Lil  but  an  hour  before, 
was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  cot  staring  into  vacancy 
and  on  the  verge  of  falling  into  idiocy,  saw  through 
his  grated  door  the  low  light  of  the  turnkey's  lantern 
approaching,  and  roused  himself. 

"In  another  moment  the  door  was  unlocked,  the 
two  men  entered,  and  Joe's  eager,  questioning  eyes 
read  the  good  news  in  their  faces  before  the  chaplain 
took  his  hand  and  said: 

"  'Return  thanks  to  the  Lord,  my  boy!  You  are 
saved!' 

"  'Oh,  Lil!  Lil!'  cried  Joe,  and  dropped  his  head 
in  his  hands  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"When  at  length  he  recovered  himself  he  thanked 
the  chaplain  and  the  lawyer  for  all  that  they  had 
done  in  his  behalf. 

"And  then,  as  it  was  late,  the  two  gentlemen  shook 
hands  with  the  prisoner  and  withdrew. 

"The  next  morning  the  meeting  between  the  young 
pair  was  a  happier  one  than  they  had  had  since  they 
had  parted  on  that  fatal  night  of  the  old  squire's 
death  and  the  lawyer's  murder. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  also  kept  their  spirits  up  by  hope- 
fully putting  the  fairest  view  of  the  future  before 
them.  He  reiterated  that  it  depended  on  Joe  him- 
self whether  his  lot  in  Australia  would  be  the  hard 
lot  of  a  convict  or  the  ordinary  lot  of  a  hard-work- 
ing emigrant.  The  chaplain  of  this  prison,  he  said, 
would  write  a  letter  to  the  chaplain  of  the  transport- 
ship  and  make  interest  with  him  for  the  young  exile. 
And  lastly,  that,  within  a  year,  or  two  years  at  most, 
he  would  bring  Lil  out  to  Sydney. 

"  'And  by  that  time,  Joe,  you  will  have  behaved 
yourself  so  well  as  to  have  got  your  ticket-of-leave 


LILITH  SOT 

and  maybe  your  free  pardon,  too,  and  we  will  all, 
please  the  Lord,  forget  our  troubles  and  live  happily 
together.' 

"And  Lil  and  Joe  believed  all  that  their  hopeful 
brother  told  them,  and  anticipated  the  brighter  days 
that  might  be  in  store  for  them  in  the  future  years. 

"The  interval  between  this  day  and  the  sailing  of 
the  transport-ship  was  passed  as  calmly  and  hopefully 
as  possible  under  the  circumstances. 

"Lil  was  allowed  to  be  as  much  with  Joe  as  the 
rules  of  the  prison  justified,  and  even  a  little  more, 
perhaps,  for  governor,  chaplain  and  physician  all 
sympathized  with  them,  despite  the  rigid  discipline 
that  would  bind  souls  as  much  as  bodies  in  such  cases 
of  officers  and  prisoners. 

"The  day  came  in  which  Joe  and  a  fellow-prisoner 
named  Jeremiah  Hatfield,  convicted  of  robbery  and 
sentenced  to  seven  years'  transportation  and  penal 
servitude,  were  to  be  taken  from  the  prison,  hand- 
cuffed together  and  put  upon  the  train,  in  charge  of 
two  armed  keepers,  to  be  taken  to  Liverpool,  from 
whence  the  transport-ship  Vulture  was  to  sail. 

"Lil,  supported  by  the  strong  arm  and  strong  heart 
of  her  brother  Joseph,  went  early  to  the  prison  to- 
take  leave  of  Joe. 

"Joe  behaved  pretty  wTell  under  the  circumstances, 
kept  up  his  own  spirits  and  kept  up  Lil's. 

"  'Only  look  upon  this  as  if  I  were  going  to  sear 
Lil!  You  know  I  am  not  guilty.  I  will  not  consider 
myself  a  convict.  I  will  think  of  myself  only  as  an 
emigrant.  And  I  will  behave  so  well,  please  the 
Lord,  that  everybody  shall  esteem  me,  whether  they 
will  or  no.  And  shall  believe  that  I  have  been 
wrongly  accused.  Cheer  up,  Lil.' 

"The  doctor  had  mercifully  given  Lil  a  sedative 
that  morning  to  enable  her  to  go  through  the  ordeal, 
else  Heaven  only  knows  what  sort  of  a  scene  of  wild 


308  LILITH 

hysterics  would  have  been  enacted  in  that  cell.  As 
it  was,  Lil's  heart  only  ached  with  a  dull  despair  that 
found  no  outlet  in  sobs  or  tears,  or  even  complaint. 

"The  poor  boy  and  girl  were  allowed  to  remain 
together  until  the  last  possible  minute,  and  then, 
when  they  were  warned  that  the  moment  of  parting 
had  actually  come,  there  was  one  long,  clinging  em- 
brace, and  then  Joseph  led  his  sister  away — not  cry- 
ing, not  fainting,  yet  half  dead  in  her  dumb  anguish. 

"The  chaplain  remained  with  Joe.  And  before  the 
wife  and  brother  had  reached  the  end  of  the  cor- 
ridor, another  prisoner  was  brought  from  another  cell, 
handcuffed  to  Joe,  and  both  were  led  off  to  the  prison 
van  that  was  to  take  them  to  the  railway  station 
en  route  for  Liverpool  and  the  transport-ship. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  took  his  sister  back  to  their  lodg- 
ing-house and  made  her  go  to  bed,  where,  overcome 
by  all  that  she  had  done  and  borne  that  day,  and 
stupefied  by  the  sedative  she  had  taken,  she  fell  into 
a  long  sleep. 

"Meanwhile  the  kind-hearted  and  helpful  landlady 
packed  up  all  her  lodgers'  effects  to  save  Lil  trouble, 
in  anticipation  of  the  journey  that  was  to  be  taken 
the  next  day. 

"Lil  awoke  the  next  morning  much  calmer  and 
stronger  than  might  have  been  expected. 

"And  the  same  day  Joseph  Wyvil,  after  thanking 
and  remunerating  their  landlady,  took  his  sister  back 
to  their  cottage  home  at  Stockton. 


LILITH  309 


DELIVERANCE 

So,  trial  after  trial  past, 

Shalt  thou  fall  at  the  very  last, 

Breathless,  half  in  trance, 

With  the  thrill  of  a  great  deliverance, 

Into  our  arms  forevermore. 

Browning. 

"JOSEPH  WTVIL  took  his  sister  home,  but  it  was  no 
longer  the  bright  and  happy  home  that  it  had  been 
before  Lil's  stolen  marriage  and  its  almost  tragic  end. 

"Lil  fell  into  such  dull  and  deep  despair  that  her 
brother  feared  it  would  terminate  in  that  most  hope- 
less form  of  madness  known  as  melancholia. 

"He  consulted  their  old  family  physician,  who, 
after  several  visits  to  his  patient,  recommended  an 
entire  change  of  scene,  occupations  and  interests  for 
the  despairing  girl. 

"Ah,  poor  Joseph  Wyvil!  And  poor  Lil!  The  doc- 
tor might  as  reasonably  have  recommended  a  yacht 
to  the  Mediterranean  Sea  and  a  palace  on  the  coast 
of  Sicily  for  this  impoverished  and  embarrassed 
brother  and  sister. 

"The  expenses  of  the  trial  had  absorbed  all  Joseph 
Wyvil's  savings,  and  even  compelled  him  to  mortgage 
his  house. 

"For  to  the  lawyer's  fees  and  other  legal  costs 
there  had  been  added  the  expenses  of  his  own  and 
his  sister's  board  and  lodging  at  Carlisle,  and  of  his 
own  and  the  lawyer's  journey  to  London  and  back, 
and  their  hotel  bills  while  in  that  city  dancing  at- 
tendance at  Somerset  House,  and  the  loss  of  time  and 
work. 


310  LILITH 

"Joseph  Wyvil  was  hopelessly  embarrassed  in 
money  matters.  The  lately  industrious,  thriving  and 
^fore-handed'  mechanic  was  financially  ruined. 

"Not  by  his  own  doings,  but  by  the  folly  and 
calamity  of  his  sister  and  brother. 

"He  had  lost  his  work  also,  and  could  not  recover 
it.  This  was  a  misfortune  he  had  not  in  the  least 
calculated  upon.  But  another  man  had  got  his  place, 
and  there  was  no  room  for  him. 

"Joseph  first  sold  his  silver  watch,  and  next  the 
precious  half  dozen  silver  tea-spoons  left  him  by  his 
mother,  to  pay  the  interest  on  his  notes  and  to  bear 
current  expenses.  After  that,  piece  by  piece  of  the 
little  parlor  set  went. 

"But  these  could  not  last  long.  The  crash  came. 
The  house  was  sold  under  the  mortgage,  and  the  little 
home  was  broken  up.  So  much  calamity  may  come 
of  one  little  act  of  folly  like  Joe's  and  Lil's  run- 
away marriage. 

"Joseph  took  his  sister  and  the  remnant  of  his 
household  furniture  and  moved  into  two  rooms  of  a 
poor  tenement  house,  and  tried  to  get  work  even  as 
a  common  laborer,  but  failed. 

"He  then  sold  more  of  his  small  stock  of  furni- 
ture, divided  the  money  with  Lil,  and  went  'on  the 
tramp,'  seeking  work  of  any  honest  sort  wherever  he 
might  get  it. 

"So  he  drifted  to  Liverpool.  There  he  met  with 
an  old  shipmate  and  friend  of  his  late  uncle,  Zebedee 
Wyvil.  This  was  George  Poole,  now  captain  of  the 
fast-sailing  Baltimore  clipper  Oriole,  then  in  port. 

"To  Captain  Poole  poor  Joseph  Wyvil  told  his 
story. 

"After  hearing  him  to  the  end,  the  skipper  said: 

"  "There  is  always  work  for  willing  hands  in 
America,  and  often  fortune,  too.  Come  cut  with  me 


LILITH 

to  America,  Wyvil.  I  shall  sail  for  Baltimore  in  ten 
days.' 

"  'I  have  no  money,  and  all  my  household  goods 
would  not  bring  ten  pounds,'  sadly  replied  Joseph. 

"  'The  more  reason  for  your  accepting  my  offer. 
Come,  you  can  work  your  passage  over  if  you  insist 
upon  being  independent,  and  when ' 

"  'But  niy  poor  little  sister.  I  cannot  leave  her  in 
her  misery/ 

"  'Of  course  you  cannot.  Who  asked  you  to  do  so? 
Bring  her  with  you.  She  shall  have  a  free  passage; 
or,  if  she  has  too  much  pride  to  accept  a  favor,  she 
may  help  the  stewardess  mend  the  ship's  linen,  just 
as  she  pleases.  Come,  old  fellow,  take  an  old  friend's 
honest  offer  and  best  advice.  Run  up  to  Carlisle. 
Sell  out  your  sticks,  and  bring  7our  sister  down  here. 
You  have  plenty  of  time  to  settle  up  all  your  affairs. 
And  when  we  get  to 

"The  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave," 

I  will  look  after  you  like  a  godfather  until  you  get 
work.  Come,  what  do  you  say?' 

"  'I  accept  your  kindness.  But,  oh!  how  shall  I 
ever  be  able  to  express  my  thanks?' 

"  'By  holding  your  tongue,  and  getting  ready  to  sail, 
my  boy.  You  said  your  doctor  recommended  change 
of  scene  for  the  girl,  didn't  you?' 

"  'Oh,  yes!  yes!  But  how  was  I  to  provide  it  for 
her,  even  though  her  life  or  reason  might  depend  on 
her  having  it?' 

"  'Exactly.  But  now  you  see  it  is  provided  for  her. 
Hurry  back  to  her,  Wyvil.  By  the  way,  here.  You 
must  not  dream  of  tramping  back  to  Carlisle.  Take 
this  five  pound  note.  Pshaw!  Nonsense!  I  am  not 
offering  to  give  it  to  you,  man,  but  to  lend  it.  There, 


312  LILITH 

hurry  back  to  your  sister,  and  fetch  her  down.  I'll 
warrant  her  spirits  will  improve  in  a  week.' 

"Joseph  Wyvil  would  have  thanked  this  warm- 
hearted and  generous  friend  and  benefactor,  but  found 
no  words,  no  voice  to  express  himself. 

"He  took  the  first  train  back  to  Stockton,  and  re- 
turned to  the  poor  lodgings  where  he  had  left  Lil. 

"He  found  her  much  worse  than  he  had  left  her — 
paler,  thinner,  weaker  and  more  melancholy. 

"When  he  told  her  of  the  prospect  opened  for 
them  by  this  free  passage  to  America,  her  first  words 
were  those  of  disappointment. 

"  'I  thought  we  were  to  go  out  to  Australia  to  join 
poor  Joe.' 

"  'And  so  we  are  to  do,  dear,  just  as  soon  as  I  can 
make  money  enough  to  take  us  out  there.  But  I 
cannot  make  this  money  in  England.  And  so  we  must 
thank  Heaven  for  this  free  passage  to  America, 
where  work  is  plenty  and  wages  high.  There  it  will 
require  a  much  shorter  time  to  make  money  enough 
to  take  us  out  to  join  Joe.' 

"  'But  will  this  voyage  carry  us  any  farther  away 
from  poor  Joe  than  we  are  now?'  was  Lil's  next 
anxious  question. 

"  'No;  no  farther.  I  do  not  think  as  far.  Aus- 
tralia is  at  the  antipodes,  as  we  stand  here,  you  know; 
so  every  thousand  miles  we  sail  must  take  us  a 
thousand  miles  nearer  in  space,  and  the  greater  facili- 
ties offered  in  America  will  take  us  years  nearer  in 
time  to  our  heart's  desire.' 

"  'Let  us  go,  then!  Oh!  let  us  go!  I  begin  to  see 
light  at  last!'  exclaimed  Lil,  rallying  as  she  had  never 
rallied  since  her  parting  with  her  husband. 

"The  need  of  activity,  the  prospect  of  a  journey 
and  a  voyage,  and  conditions  that  were  to  bring  her 
nearer  in  time  as  well  as  in  space  to  Joe,  infused 
new  life  into  Lil. 


LILITH  318 

"She  rendered  prompt  and  efficient  aid  to  Joseph 
in  preparing  to  leave  home. 

"The  sale  of  their  household  goods  brought  exactly 
£7  5s.  3d.,  or  about  $37.56  of  our  money.  Joseph 
had  of  the  money  loaned  him  by  Captain  Poole, 
£4  10s.,  so  that  when  he  had  settled  all  his  little 
debts  he  had  still  £10,  or  $50  of  our  money,  left. 

"On  the  day  after  their  sale  they  took  the  train 
for  Liverpool,  and  by  the  captain's  advice,  went  im- 
mediately on  board  the  ship,  to  save  expense  of  board 
and  lodging  in  the  town. 

"In  a  few  days  the  Oriole  sailed,  and  wind  and 
weather  proving  very  favorable,  in  two  weeks  the 
clipper  crossed  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  anchored  in 
Baltimore  harbor. 

"Within  a  week  after  landing  Joseph  Wyvil  ob- 
tained work  as  a  journeyman  carpenter  on  a  house 
that  some  contractor  was  in  a  hurry  to  finish  by  a 
certain  date. 

"Then  he  took  his  sister  from  off  the  ship,  and 
conveyed  her  to  a  cheap,  respectable  boarding-house. 

"Within  a  month  after  this  the  Oriole  sailed  again 
for  Liverpool,  and  the  brother  and  sister  lost  their 
kind  friend. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  and  Lil  had  both  written  to  their 
poor  Joe  before  leaving  England,  telling  him  of  their 
new  hopes  and  plans. 

"They  wrote  again  on  reaching  Baltimore,  telling 
him  of  their  better  fortunes,  and  of  their  one  object 
in  making  and  saving  money  as  fast  as  possible  to 
go  out  and  join  him. 

"But  ah!  Joseph  Wyvil's  prosperity  did  not  con- 
tinue. When  the  house  on  which  he  had  been  at 
work  was  completed,  he  and  his  fellow-journeymen 
were  thrown  out  of  employment,  and  despite  their  ut- 
most endeavors,  remained  idle  for  the  rest  of  the 
winter. 


LILITH 

"But  about  the  middle  of  March  a  change  came. 
A  certain  capitalist  of  Baltimore  had  found  out  a 
favorable  part  of  the  Jersey  coast  for  the  opening  of 
a  new  summer  resort  that  should  combine  cheapness 
with  everything  else  that  was  desirable  in  life. 

"He  had  leased  the  one  large  hotel  on  the  place, 
and  was  about  to  build  a  number  of  small,  rough  cot- 
tages and  bathing-houses  there  to  accommodate 
visitors. 

"All  the  carpenters  who  happened  to  be  out  of 
employment,  and  were  willing  to  leave  Baltimore  for 
several  months,  were  engaged  at  good  wages  on  the 
work. 

"Joseph  Wyvil  was  among  the  rest,  and  he  went 
to  Seawood,  taking  his  sister  with  him. 

"The  other  workmen  got  accommodations  in  the 
fishermen's  cottages  scattered  here  and  there  along 
the  shore,  but  Joseph  Wyvil  took  his  sister  to  a  little 
inland  village  about  two  miles  from  the  sea,  lodged 
her  in  a  farm-house  for  a  few  days,  and  then  rented 
a  cheap  cottage  with  a  little  garden,  furnished  it 
with  the  bare  necessities  of  life,  and  put  her  there. 

"Gradually,  as  the  spring  and  summer  went  on, 
he  added  little  comforts  to  her  store  as  his  wages 
enabled  him  to  do  so. 

"He  went  to  work  every  morning,  and  returned 
every  evening.  He  and  his  sister  lived  a  most  se- 
cluded life.  They  joined  the  Episcopal  church  at  Sea- 
wood  by  letters  from  the  rector  of  the  parish  church  ; 
at  Stockton,  and  as  they  were  described  as  Joseph 
Wyvil,  of  Stockton,  and  Elizabeth,  wrife  of  Joseph 
Wyvil,  a  very  natural  mistake  was  made  in  their 
case — a  mistake  that  they  never  thought  of,  and  that 
no  one  else  was  aware  of. 

"They  were  taken  for  husband  and  wife  instead  of 
brother  and  sister;  and  as  they  went  nowhere  but  to 


LILITH  315 

church,  and  received  no  visitors,  this  natural  mistake 
was  not  corrected. 

''They  lived  contentedly  enough  together,  writing 
by  every  Australian  mail  to  Joe,  and  looking  for- 
ward to  the  time  when  they  should  have  money 
enough  to  go  out  to  him. 

"They  bad  not  had  a  line  from  poor  little  Joe 
since  he  sailed  in  the  transport-ship,  on  the  fifteenth, 
of  the  last  December,  nor  had  they  expected  to  get 
one.  They  knew  that  months  must  elapse  before 
the  end  of  his  voyage,  and  more  months  before  a  re- 
turn letter  could  come  to  them.  They  even  remem- 
bered how  many  months  must  pass  before  their  first 
letter  could  reach  him,  though  after  the  first  long 
gap  of  silence  the  letters  would  xcome  and  go  more 
frequently. 

"To  complicate  matters  more — to  fill  the  situation 
with  more  of  grief  and  more  of  joy — it  was  certain 
that  little  Lil  was  destined  to  become  a  mother. 
This  fact  was  not  written  to  Joe,  for,  said  Lil: 

"  'If  I  tell  him  it  will  only  add  to  his  anxiety  and 
impatience  to  see  us.  If  my  child  should  live,  it  will 
only  be  the  greater  surprise  and  delight  to  him  when 
he  hears  of  it  or  sees  it.' 

"It  was  about  the  middle  of  August,  ten  months 
after  Lil's  marriage,  and  seven  months  after  the  heart- 
breaking separation  from  her  husband,  that  the 
second  catastrophe  of  her  life  came. 

"You  already  know  all  about  it — how,  while  Joseph 
Wyvil  was  at  work  on  the  shore,  in  the  heat  of  an 
August  afternoon,  the  little  son  of  Major  Hereward, 
while  bathing,  got  out  of  his  depth,  and  being  unable 
to  swim,  was  drowning  and  cried  out  for  help. 

"And  Joseph  Wyvil  forgot  all  prudence  in  his 
manly  impulse  to  rescue  the  perishing  boy,  and  all 
overheated  as  he  was,  plunged  into  the  water,  swam 
to  him  and  seized  him;  how  he  had  just  time  to  tow 


316  LILITH 

him  in  and  fling  him  into  the  outstretched  arms  of  a 
fisherman,  when  he  was  seized  with  cramp,  sank  and 
was  swirled  away  by  the  under-current. 

"You  know  all  about  that,  and  how  the  news  of 
his  sudden  and  violent  death  shocked  the  delicate 
young  mother  into  a  premature  confinement,  and  how 
little  Lil  died  within  a  few  hours  after  giving  birth 
to  her  daughter — died  without  being  able  to  articulate 
one  word  of  explanation  to  Major  Hereward,  who, 
brought  thither  by  the  minister,  stood  beside  her  bed 
ready  to  adopt  the  infant  orphaned  for  his  sake  and 
for  the  sake  of  his  son. 

"Major  Hereward  was  in  no  measure  to  blame  for 
what  occurred;  yet  he  mourned  as  if  he  had  been 
culpably  responsible  for  the  tragedy,  and  he  did  all 
that  lay  in  his  power — all  that  mortal  man  could  do 
to  atone  for  it.  And  not  the  least  part  of  his  work 
was  his  adoption  and  education  of  the  orphan  infant/' 

"That  was  his  bounden  duty.  His  most  sacred  duty. 
And  in  the  object  of  this  duty  he  found  the  greatest 
comfort  and  happiness  of  his  life,"  said  Tudor  Here- 
ward, breaking  in  for  the  first  time  upon  Zuniga's  nar- 
rative, and  taking  and  carrying  the  hand  of  Lilith  to 
his  lips. 

"I  can  well  believe  that!  Lilith  was  a  true  daughter 
to  her  adopted  father,"  said  Zuniga. 

"She  has  been  true  as  truth  in  every  relation  of 
her  difficult  life,"  added  Hereward. 

"Will  you  tell  us  now,  dear,  what  we  most  long 
to  know — your  own  life  after  you  left  England  under 
such  a  cruel  and  unjust  condemnation?  For  even  to 
me,  your  child,  you  have  never  told  that  story,  con- 
secutively," said  Lilith,  to  divert  the  conversation 
from  herself,  for  she  was  always  embarrassed  by  such 
very  direct  praise. 

"Yes,  but  still  in  the  third  person,  if  you  please, 


LILITH  317 

and  still  partly  from  the  notes  I  have  made  from  time 
to  time,"  said  Zuniga. 

And  he  resumed  his  personal  history  as  if  speak- 
ing of  another. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

OUT  OF  THE  SNARE  AND  ON  THE  WING 

And  all  the  time  they  hunted  me, 
From  hill  to  plain,  from  shore  to  sea, 
And  justice  hounding  far  and  wide 
Her  bloodhounds  through  the  country  side, 
Breathed  hot  and  instant  on  my  trace. 

Browning. 

"You  know  it  was  reported  that  John  Weston  was 
killed,  shot  dead,  while  trying  to  escape  from  Port 
Arthur.  You  will  discover  in  the  course  of  this  nar- 
rative how  that  false  report  got  out  and  how  it  se- 
cured his  escape. 

"John  Weston  was  rather  favored  by  the  chaplain 
of  the  transport-ship  on  account,  I  think,  of  his  youth 
and  good  looks,  as  well  as  his  good  behavior  and  the 
recommendation  of  the  prison  chaplain. 

"When  they  were  well  out  to  sea  he  was  taken  from 
the  convict  gang  into  the  chaplain's  room  to  wait 
on  his  reverence,  though  the  office  was  a  mere 
sinecure. 

"He  had  a  good  time  of  it  all  through  the  voyage, 
with  nothing  at  all  to  cry  for  but  the  lost  company 
of  his  Lil  and  his  brother,  and  the  cruel  imputation 
of  crime  under  which  he  lived,  or  seemed  to  live,  for 
really  you  do  not  believe  that  anybody  in  that  ship 
could  look  at  the  handsome  little  fellow  and  take  him 
for  a  criminal.  You  don't,  indeed! 


318  LILITH 

"The  Vulture  was  a  very  slow  sailer,  and  we  were 
five  months  at  sea. 

"It  was  the  first  of  May  when  the  ship  reached 
Hobart  Town. 

"Here  the  convict  gang  were  handcuffed,  two  and 
two,  sent  on  shore  under  strong  guard,  and  trans- 
ferred from  the  custody  of  the  ship's  officers  to  that 
of  the  authorities  in  the  town. 

"They  were  lodged  in  jail  that  night,  and  the  next 
morning  assigned  to  their  work. 

"And  now  John  Weston's  troubles  began.  As  a 
felon  convicted  of  a  capital  crime,  and  condemned 
to  death,  who  had  had  his  sentence  commuted  to 
transportation  and  penal  servitude  for  life,  he  was 
at  once  classed  among  the  worst  criminals  and  sent 
on  to  Port  Arthur,  the  prison  to  which  the  most 
heavily  sentenced  of  the  British  convicts  were  at  that 
time  doomed. 

"True,  the  chaplain  of  the  transport-ship  had  tried 
to  interest  the  jail  chaplain  and  the  colonial  authori- 
ties in  favor  of  the  boy;  but  all  in  vain.  Chaplains 
liave  no  authority  and  precious  little  influence  in  the 
convict  settlements. 

"So  John  Weston,  who  had  done  very  little  evil  in 
liis  brief  life,  poor  lad!  was  shipped  off  to  that  per- 
dition of  evil-doers — Port  Arthur. 

"It  would  be  too  cruel  to  harrow  your  heart  with 
any  description  of  his  sufferings  there,  where  every 
thing  that  could  revolt  his  nature  surrounded  him. 

"No  more  of  that.  One  day  he  was  sent  for  to 
the  office  of  the  commandant,  where  be  received  the 
first  letter  that  he  had  seen  since  leaving  England. 
It  was  a  joint  letter  from  Joseph  and  L51,  telling  him 
of  their  settlement  at  Seawood  on  the  New  Jersey 
coast  in  America.  Also  of  the  good  wages  Joseph  was 
getting,  and  of  their  hopes  soon  to  come  out  and  join 
him. 


LILITH  319 

"Join  him!  How  little  they  knew  or  suspected  of 
his  dreadful  condition!  They  evidently  thought  that 
some  chance  of  redemption  had  been  given  him,  that 
he  had  been  assigned  to  some  easy  duty  as  clerk, 
messenger,  or  bookkeeper  in  some  of  the  officers' 
quarters;  that  he  would  soon  get  his  ticket-of-leave, 
and  only  a  little  later  his  free  pardon!  And  they 
would  come  out  and  join  him  and  settle  down  to 
sheep-farming  as  hopeful  colonists,  as  the  too  sanguine 
chaplain  had  led  them  to  anticipate. 

"When  the  real  truth  was — too  horrible  to  dwell 
upon! 

"By  the  allusions  in  this  letter,  John  Weston 
learned  that  there  must  have  been  several  other 
letters  that  preceded  this  one,  and  had  never  reached 
him. 

"He  did  not  reply  to  it;  he  had  no  heart  to  do  so. 
He  preferred  to  let  Joseph  and  Lil  dream  their  dream 
of  the  imaginary  future  a  little  longer,  while  he  him- 
self dreamed  of  escape  or  of — suicide. 

"Early  one  morning  after  this  he  was  at  work 
under  the  timber  cliffs,  where  many  convicts  were 
employed  cutting  down  trees,  and  lopping  off  their 
branches,  many  others  in  rolling  the  huge  boles  down 
to  the  beach,  and  others  still — among  whom  was  John 
Weston — were  toiling  at  the  hardest  work,  up  to  their 
waists  in  water,  harnessed  like  mules  to  these  im- 
mense logs,  and  hauling  them  to  the  distant  ship-yard. 

"So  early  was  the  hour  at  which  they  had  been 
called  to  work-  that  it  was  as  yet  scarcely  light  on 
that  cool  autumn  morning. 

"John  Weston,  driven  to  desperation  by  the  misery 
and  hopelessness  of  his  condition,  suddenly  deter- 
mined to  make  a  dash  for  freedom  or  for  death. 
While  preparing  to  harness  himself  to  the  great  bole 
to  be  hauled,  he  .suddenly  threw  ropes  and  chains 
over  his  head,  leaped  for  the  deeper  water,  and  struck 


320  LILITH 

oat  for  the  open  sea.  He  was  a  strong  and  skil- 
ful swimmer,  whose  muscular  strength  had  been 
greatly  developed  by  hard  work  in  the  open  air;  he 
was  stimulated  by  desperate  hope,  and  everything  was 
in  his  favor.  The  tide  was  going  out  and  the  sea  was 
calm. 

"If  he  could,  only  reach  that  rugged  promontory 
nine  miles  distant  up  the  coast,  a  point  totally  inac- 
cessible by  land,  and  almost  so  by  water  also,  except 
by  such  a  desperate  wretch  as  himself. 

"If  he  could  reach  that  point,  climb  that  cliff,  lose 
himself  in  that  impenetrable  wilderness,  why,  then, 
he  might  starve  or  freeze  to  death  in  time,  might  be 
killed  by  the  bushmen,  or  devoured  by  wild  beasts; 
but  he  could  never  be  recaptured,  and  he  might 
eventually  escape. 

"A  forlorn  hope!  But  he  seized  it  for  all  and  more 
than  all  it  was  worth. 

"Ah!  but  scarcely  had  he  taken  his  leap  for  life 
before  the  alarm  was  given,  and  shot  after  shot  was 
fired.  One  struck  him,  grazing  the  tip  of  his  ear. 
lie  dived  instantly,  and  that  gave  the  rise  to  the  re- 
port of  his  death — 'shot  while  trying  to  make  his  es- 
cape!' No  more  shots  were  fired  after  that!  When 
he  rose  again  to  the  surface  he  was  so  far  from  the 
shore  that  his  small  cropped  head  was  lost  to  view 
among  the  billows. 

"He  never  reached  the  promontory,  however.  His 
strength  gave  out,  or  was  giving  out,  when  he  swam 
for  a  floating  log  that  had  been  washed  away  from 
the  timber  cliffs.  Around  this  he  clasped  himself, 
and  kept  himself  up,  as  well  as  he  could,  to  put  off 
death  as  long  as  possible. 

"He  was  drifting  farther  and  farther  out  to  sea, 
and  his  senses  were  becoming  benumbed  and  his 
thoughts  confused;  yet  still  he  instinctively  held  on 


LILITH  321 

to  the  log  until  everything  else  seemed  to  have  left 
him. 

"When  John  Weston  recovered  his  consciousness 
he  found  himself  in  a  comfortable  berth  in  a  ship 
that  he  afterwards  discovered  to  be  the  American 
merchantman  Buzzard,  homeward  bound  from  Cal- 
cutta to  New  York. 

"Later  on  he  learned  the  facts  of  his  rescue.  H  • 
had  been  seen  floating  on  the  log  by  the  man  at  the 
look-out.  A  boat  had  been  put  off  to  his  relief,  and 
he  had  been  brought  on  board  the  ship,  in  apparent 
death.  All  means  known  to  science  had  been  used 
for  his  restoration,  and  they  had  proved  successful. 

"In  a  day  or  two  John  Weston  was  strong  as  ever, 
and  went  before  the  mast  a  willing  worker,  in  a 
short-handed  ship,  which  had  lost  several  of  its  men 
by  fever  wrhile  in  port  at  Calcutta. 

"On  reaching  New  York  he  discharged  himself,  and 
glad,  glorious  with  this  realization  of  freedom,  he 
started  at  once  for  Seawood  to  give  Joseph  and  Lil 
a  joyful  surprise. 

"Ah,  how  soon  were  his  high  hopes  dashed  to  the 
ground!  He  reached  Seawood  the  same  day. 

"He  inquired  for  Mr.  Joseph  Wyvil.  He  was  told 
the  sad  tragedy  with  which  you  are  already  ac- 
quainted— that  Joseph  Wyvil  had  been  drowned  in 
rescuing  the  son  of  a  Major  Hereward,  that  Mrs. 
Wyvil  had  died  on  the  same  day  on  which  her  child 
was  born,  and  that  the  orphan  baby-girl  had  been 
adopted  and  taken  away  to  be  brought  up  as  his  own 
daughter  by  Major  Hereward. 

"Poor  Joe — to  give  him  back  his  familiar  name 
since  his  escape — poor  Joe  was  nearly  crushed  to 
death  by  this  blow.  He  inquired  about  Major  Here- 
ward, but  could  not  find  out  his  address. 

"The  rector,  wrho  had  been  with  Lil  in  her  last  mo- 


LILITH 

ments,  might  have  given  him  the  information,  but  he 
had  gone  to  Europe  for  his  health. 

"At  last  poor  Joe  gave  up  the  search  for  the  time 
being,  and  contented  himself,  on  the  child's  account, 
by  reflecting  that  she  was  in  good  hands  and  much 
better  situated  than  she  could  be  in  his  own  posses- 
sion, even  if  he,  the  fugitive  convict,  could  dare  to 
claim  her. 

"Satisfied  as  to  his  child's  fortunes,  but  heart- 
broken for  his  wife's  and  his  brother's  loss,  the  poor 
fellow  started  on  an  aimless  tramp  over  the  country, 
getting  a  job  of  work  here  and  there,  just  enough  to 
keep  him  from  starvation;  sleeping  in  barns  and  out- 
houses, and  faring  as  hard  as  he  had  fared  in  prison, 
except  in  loss  of  liberty. 

"One  day  he  fell  in  with  a  company  of  strolling 
players,  and  he  joined  them,  getting  nothing  for  his 
services  except  his  'victual  and  drink,'  and  very  little 
and  of  very  poor  quality  of  that. 

"But,  after  all,  it  was  the  small  beginning  of  great 
things  in  that  line.  At  first  he  was  only  trusted  with 
small  parts;  but  people  were  pleased  to  say  he  was 
handsome,  elegant  and  attractive;  he  soon  developed 
dramatic  talent,  and  was  charged  with  the  leading 
parts  in  whatever  might  be  afoot  of  tragedy,  comedy 
or  opera. 

"After  awhile  he  joined  a  circus  company,  where 
he  learned  to  ride  and  to  perform  wondrous  feats  of 
equestrianism.  He  studied  to  improve  himself  in  all 
these  arts,  of  singing,  riding,  acting. 

"He  belonged,  in  succession,  to  many  traveling 
companies,  and  he  went  all  over  the  United  States, 
the  West  Indies,  Bermuda,  and  into  several  of  the 
countries  of  South  America.  It  took  years,  but  at 
last  he  reached  the  climax  of  his  fame  as  'Mr.  Alfred 
Ancillon,  the  World-Renowned,'  and  so  forth  and  so 
forth!  Bat  with  all  this,  he  never  made  his  fortune, 


LILITH  323 

and  never,  in  all  his  life,  had  a  hundred  dollars  over 
and  above  his  expenses;  no,  not  even  when  he  was 
the  proprietor  of  the  Grand  Plantagenet  and  Monl- 
morenci  Combination,  etc.,  etc.,  which  had  the  honor 
of  playing  before  the  enlightened  audience  of  Frost- 
hill,  while  all  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe  were  pin- 
ing for  its  presence. 

"It  was  while  at  Frosthill  that  Mr.  Alfred  Ancil- 
lon  chanced  to  hear  of  poor  Joe  WyviFs  little  daugh- 
ter, now  grown  to  womanhood  and  married  to  her 
adopted  father's  only  son,  and  that  since  the  death  of 
Major  Hereward,  and  the  departure  of  Mr.  Hereward 
for  Washington,  she  had  been  living  alone  at  Cloud 
Cliffs. 

"A  very  natural  and  most  eager  desire  seized  him 
to  behold  his  daughter.  He  went  to  Cloud  Cliffs  and 
introduced  himself,  fearing  the  while  that  she  would 
'  lil  to  recognize  his  claim  and  would  deny  him. 

"But  as  fate  would  have  it,  she  had,  only  that  day, 
for  the  first  time,  overhauled  certain  old  letters  and 
papers,  which  had  not  seen  the  light  since  the  day 
she  was  born;  and  in  them  she  had  read  the  story  of 
poor  Joe's  life,  and  had  even  seen  poor  Joe's  photo- 
graph. 

"So  when  he  revealed  himself  she  recognized  him 
at  once.  And  when  he  explained  that  he  was  a  fugi- 
tive from  injustice,  and  that  the  extradition  treaty 
was  in  force,  she  readily  took  the  oath  of  secrecy  her 
father  prescribed  for  her — the  oath  that  has  been  the 
cause  of  so  much  misunderstanding,  suspicion  and 
misery. 

"Among  the  papers  that  he  found  in  the  old  trunk, 
which  had  escaped  his  daughter's  notice,  was  a  diary 
kept  by  the  old  seaman,  Zebedee  Wyvil,  in  which 
was  described,  among  other  matters,  the  embarka- 
tion of  Seiior  Don  Louis  Zuniga,  with  his  wife,  Donna 
Isabella  Mendoza,  and  their  infant  son;  and  also  the 


324  LILITH 

Marquis    of    ,  the  brother  of  the  lady,    on    the 

Falcon,  homeward  bound  from  Havana  to  Liverpool. 

"The  diary,  suddenly  stopped  and  renewed  ten  days 
later,  described  the  wreck  of  the  Falcon,  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  crew  and  passengers  into  three  boats; 
commanded  respectively  by  the  captain,  the  first 
mate  and  the  second  mate.  The  Marquis  of 
found  a  place  in  the  captain's  boat,  the  Sefior  Zuniga, 
with  his  wife  and  child,  in  the  third  boat. 

"The  diary  went  on  to  describe  the  sufferings  of 
the  party  in  the  last  boat,  and  the  subsequent  death 
of  the  sefior  and  seiiora,  and  the  rescue  of  the  only 
survivors,  Zebedee  Wyvil  and  the  Spanish  infant. 

"This  record,  begun  in  a  small  pocket  volume,  was 
continued  in  similar  books,  and  kept  up  to  the  end 
of  the  writer's  life.  And  it  contained  a  true  record 
of  the  Spanish  boy's  adoption  and  education. 

"Mr.  Alfred  Ancillon,  thinking  that  he  had  the  best 
right  to  this,  took  possession  of  it,  without  saying 
anything  about  it  to  his  daughter.  His  silence  on 
the  subject  was  not  premeditated,  however,  but  the 
mere  result  of  having  so  many  more  interesting  things 
to  talk  of. 

"When,  however,  Mr.  Ancillon  went  to  Washing- 
ton to  play  at  the  Varieties  he  happened  to  hear  that 

the  Marquis  of  was  minister  from    the    Court 

of  P —  -  to  that  capital.  Subsequently  he  saw  the 
minister  in  a  public  place,  and  certainly  recognized  a 
family  likeness  to  himself. 

"Then  he  laid  his  little  plan.  When  his  engage- 
ment at  the  Varieties  ended,  he  did  not  go  on  to  San 
Francisco  as  he  was  advertised  to  go,  but  sent  a 
young  man  of  his  troupe,  made  up  to  personate  him, 
while  he  stayed  in  the  city  and  made  himself  up  in 
his  true,  his  only  true,  character,  that  of  the  Sefior 
Zuniga,  and  so  presented  himself  to  the  Marquis  of 
as  his  nephew,  the  son  of  his  deceased  sister. 


LILITH  325 

"The  hidalgo  was  startled,  amazed,  incredulous. 

"But  the  senor  had  his  proofs,  and  these  were  cor- 
roborated by  a  strong  family  likeness. 

"There  was  much  cross-questioning,  and  close  in- 
Testigation.  The  marquis  learned  all  the  facts  of 
the  wreck  of  the  Falcon,  which,  by  the  way,  his  own 
memory  confirmed. 

"He  heard  all  about  the  death  of  his  sister  and 
brother  in  law,  and  the  survival  and  rescue  of  Mate 
Zebedee  Wyvil  and  the  infant,  Zuniga,  by  the  Polly 
Ann. 

"He  heard  all  the  details  of  the  adoption,  rearing 
and  education  of  the  young  Zuniga  by  the  male, 
Zebedee  Wyvil,  and  of  the  life  of  the  youth  at  home, 
at  college,  and  at  sea,  up  to  the  time  of  his  return 
from  his  voyage  with  Captain  Pentecost. 

"But  he  learned  nothing  of  the  runaway  marriage, 
the  trial  for  murder,  the  transportation  to  the  penal 
colonies,  the  escape  thence,  the  theatrical  career  and 
so  on. 

"In  short,  the  marquis  learned  all  of  his  young 
relative  that  it  was  expedient  that  he  should  know, 
and  nothing  more. 

"And  when  he  was  satisfied  that  his  nephew 
wanted  nothing  whatever  from  him,  either  of  money, 
influence  or  preferment,  or  any  other  favor,  and  when 
he  was  pleased  to  see  that  the  young  man  was  fairly 
presentable  in  society,  he  graciously  acknowledged 
him,  entertained  him,  and  presented  him  to  his 
friends. 

"You  know  the  rest. 

"But  this  must  be  acknowledged — that  never,  in  his 
whole  successful  career  as  an  actor,  did  the  'world- 
renowned  artist,  Mr.  Alfred  Ancillon,'  undertake  so 
difficult  a  part,  or  achieve  so  splendid  a  triumph,  a 
when  he  caused  himself  to  be  introduced  to  his  own 
daughter  as  the  Senor  Zuniga,  and  thoroughly  do- 


326  LILITH 

ceived  her  in  regard  to  his  identity!  For  although, 
at  first,  she  was  startled  out  of  her  self-possession 
by  what  she  considered  a  most  amazing  likeness,  yet 
still  in  the  end  she  was  completely  deluded. 

"And  now  one  word  as  to  the  fine  art  of  success- 
ful disguise.  It  does  not  consist  in  coarse  contri- 
vances, like  staining  the  complexion  of  a  different  hue 
or  wearing  a  wig  of  different  colored  hair,  or  any- 
thing of  that  sort,  which  does  not  alter  the  form  of 
the  features,  or  the  character  of  the  countenance.  It 
consists  in  very  refined  touches,  invisible  to  the  naked 
eye,  and  yet  capable  of  changing  the  whole  individ- 
uality of  the  face,  so  that,  though  it  may  leave  a 
likeness,  it  will  seem  only  a  likeness.  These  super- 
fine, magical  touches  are  delicate  strokes  with  a 
camel's  hair  pencil  at  the  corners  of  the  eyebrows, 
the  corners  of  the  eyelids,  corners  of  the  nostrils  and 
of  the  mouth,  changing  the  angles  up  or  down  as 
may  be  required,  and  so  changing  the  very  shape  of 
the  features  so  delicately  that  the  art  cannot  be  de- 
tected. Then,  with  a  slight  modification  in  the  glance 
of  the  eye,  the  tone  of  the  voice,  and  the  gesture  of 
the  hand,  the  transformation  is  complete. 

"In  this  artistic  manner  Zuniga  deluded  everybody 
as  to  his  identity,  so  that  if  any  one  had  ventured  to 
raise  the  question  whether  or  not  he  was  the  man 
known  to  the  play-going  public  as  Mr.  Alfred  Ancil- 
lon,  his  intimate  friends  must  have  scouted  the  idea, 
and  while  admitting  the  likeness,  denied  the  identity, 
because,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

"You  know  the  rest  of  the  adventurer's  story  quite 
as  well  as  he  does;  so  little  more  need  to  be  added, 
except  that  he  has  bitterly  repented  all  the  sorrow 
his  recklessness  brought  upon  his  daughter,  and  even 
upon  her  husband.  It  is  not  certain  that  his  recov- 
ery of  his  proper  name,  Zuniga,  will  lead  to  any  last- 
ing benefit  to  himself  or  any  one  connected  with  him. 


LILITH  327 

As  the  only  son  and  heir  of  Don  Luis  Zuniga,  he 
would  be  entitled  to  large  landed  estates  and  much 
funded  wealth,  all  held  in  abeyance.  But  courts  of 
law  would  require  more  proof  of  his  identity  than  it 
may  be  practical  to  produce,  so  it  is  very  doubtful 
whether  his  estates  can  ever  be  recovered.  That  is  all, 
friends." 

As  the  Sefior  Zuniga  concluded  his  story,  he  arose, 
kissed  his  daughter,  and  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"You  have  been  more  sinned  against  than  sinning! 
What  a  life  you  have  led!"  exclaimed  Tudor  Hereward. 

"And  I  am  not  yet  forty  years  of  age!  An  age  at 
which  many  men,  and  women,  too,  actually  first  marry 
and  begin  life!"  said  Zuniga,  pausing  in  the  midst  of 
his  walk. 

"You  must  begin  a  happier  life  from  this  time  forth, 
dear,"  said  Lilith,  tenderly. 

"I — I — I — think—  Don't  you  all  think  as  we  had 
better  have  luncheon  now?  Everybody  looks  so  tired," 
said  Mrs.  Downie,  wiping  her  eyes. 

Zuniga  broke  into  one  of  his  hilarious  laughs  and 
seconded  the  motion,  which  was  carried  unanimously. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

CONCLUSION 

THE  Herewards,  Senor  Zuiiiga  and  Mrs.  Downie, 
according  to  arrangement,  lived  on  in  the  house  in 
the  Champs  Elyse"es  during  the  month  of  the  Prince 
and  Princess  Gherardini's  bridal  tour. 

In  that  month  they  saw— they  even  became  familiar 
with — all  that  was  most  worth  seeing  in  Paris. 

They  also  made  excursions  to  all  places  of  interest 
in  easy  reach  of  the  city. 


LILITH 

To  well-read  persons  like  the  Herewards  and 
Zuniga,  who  from  books  were  prepared  for  all  things, 
there  could  be  no  surprise;  but  to  Aunt  Sophie  every 
day  was  a  new  life,  every  scene  a  new  world,  so  that 
she  came  into  a  chronic  state  of  amazement. 

At  the  end  of  the  month  the  Prince  and  Princess 
Gherardini  returned  to  Paris. 

As  Mr.  Hereward  had  still  a  few  days  of  leisure 
left,  his  host  and  hostess  insisted  on  his  spending 
those  days  as  their  guest  in  Paris. 

Mrs.  Downie  was  easily  persuaded  to  stay  as  long 
as  Lilith  should  stay. 

The  Prince  and  Princess  gave  a  series  of  brilliant 
entertainments  at  the  commencement  of  the  Paris 
sea SOB. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tudor  Hereward  always  assisted  them 
in  receiving.  And  the  Paris  world  whispered  to- 
gether: 

"So  that  was  the  distinguished  statesman  to  whom 
Madame  Wyvil  was  betrothed — Monsieur  Hereward, 
of  the  American  Legation  at  the  Court  of  -  — ." 

Mrs.  Downie,  in  the  same  black  satin  dress,  trimmed 
with  black  Brussels  lace  and  black  bugles,  with  a 
white  point  lace  cap  on  her  head — all  of  which  had 
been  presented  to  her  by  the  princess  to  be  worn  at 
her  wedding — was  always  present  with  the  receiving 
party,  dodging  a  little  behind  whenever  a  great  dig- 
nitary, covered  with  stars,  crosses  and  orders,  or  a 
grande  dame  blazing  with  diamonds,  approached  the 
circle;  yet  so  thoroughly  enjoying  the  splendid  pa- 
geant that  at  length  she  grew  really  alarmed  as  to  her 
spiritual  condition,  and  privately  spoke  her  miad  to 
Lilith,  as  follows: 

"I  never  was  drunk  in  my  life,  honey,  and  I  never 
seed  anybody  else  drunk,  but  I  have  read  and  I  hearn 
a  heap  about  drunk;  and  I  do  think,  for  the  last 
week  or  so,  since  the  princess  have  been  giving  these 


LILITH  329 

high  parties,  and  I  mixed  up  into  it  all,  I  must  feel  just 
like  people  do  when  they  are  crazy  drunk.  I  ain't 
myself,  honey!  I  ain't  indeed!  I  donno  what  Brother 
Perkins  or  Brother  More  would  think  if  they  knew 
the  state  I'm  in.  I  don't  indeed!  Why,  child  when 
I  go  up  into  my  room  and  shut  the  door  and  begin 
my  prayers  with  reciting  my  hymn: 

'Fading,  still  fading,  the  last  ray  is  shining, 
Father  in  Heaven,  the  day  is  declining — 
Safety  and  innocence  fly  with  the  light, 
Temptation  and  danger  walk  forth  with  the  night,' 

instead  of  the  music  of  that  comforting  hymn,  there 
is  sounding  through  my  brain — 

'Tooty-loo-loo!    Tooty-loo-loo!     Tooty-loo-loo!' 

or  some  such  sinful  tune  as  them  there  misguided 
young  men  and  women  waltz  around  to,  with  their 
heads  on  each  other's  shoulders  and  their  arms  around 
each  other's  waists  in  a  way  I  can't  approve  of.  And 
so,  honey,  I  think  when  you  and  Mr.  Hereward  leave 
here,  I  shall  go  home  and  try  to  get  back  my  sober 
senses." 

"But  you  have  enjoyed  it,  Aunt  Sophie,"  urged 
Lilith. 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,  honey!  I  have  enjoyed  it 
too  much!  It  is  a  temptation  and  a  snare!  A  delud- 
ing snare. 

'Tooty-loo-loo!     Tooty-loo-loo!     Tooty-loo-loo!' 

There  I  am  again  with  the  waltz  whirling  round  in 
my  old  Methodist  brain!  Yes,  honey,  I  am  going 
home!" 

''But,    Aunt    Sophie,  you  must  go  first  with  Mr. 

Hereward  and  myself  to  our  home  in  .     I  know 

you  would  like  to  see  for  yourself  where  I  am  to  live, 
so  that  you  may  be  able  to  picture  me  in  my  home." 


LILITH 


"Oh,  yes!  indeed  I  should,  but- 


"But  you  will  go!  My  father  is  to  go  home  with 
us  for  a  visit — and  afterwards  he  also  is  to  go  back 
to  America.  And  now  don't  you  see  that  he  who 
brought  you  out  here  should  also  take  you  home?" 

"Oh,  yes!  Well,  if  the  'sinner'  is  going  back  so 
soon  as  you  say,  it  would  be  worth  my  while  to  stay 
and  go  along  with  him.  So  I  reckon  I  will." 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  festivity,  Tudor,  Lilith 
and  Aunt  Sophie  bade  good-bye  to  their  hospitable 
host  and  hostess,  and  left  Paris  for . 

On  their  arrival  at  that  city  Mr.  Hereward  took 
them  at  once  to  the  handsomely  furnished  house  he 
had  engaged,  near  the  Royal  Palace. 

It  was  afternoon  when  they  arrived. 

And  here  a  glad  surprise  awaited  Lilith.  As  she  en- 
tered the  hall,  led  in  by  her  husband,  a  great  black 
beast  flew  to  meet  her  and  rolled  joyously  at  her  feet! 

It  was  Lion,  her  faithful  Newfoundland  dog,  who 
had  followed  her  to  the  railway  station,  and  from 
whom  she  had  parted  on  that  dreadful  night  of  her 
banishment  from  her  home,  as  she  had  supposed,  for- 
ever. 

Her  joy  at  meeting  her  favorite  was  scarcely  less 
than  his  own.  She  welcomed,  caressed  and  talked  to 
him. 

"Loyal  old  Lion!  We  will  never  part  again!  Never 
again,  dear  old  Lion!  until  death  takes  one  or  the 
other,"  said  Lilith,  as  at  last  she  disengaged  herself 
from  him  and  went  upstairs  to  her  room,  conducted 
by  Hereward. 

Here  another  surprise  awaited  her. 

As  she  entered  the  room  her  old  nurse,  house- 
keeper and  lady's-maid,  Nancy,  came  to  meet  her;  but 
almost  instantly  became  inarticulate  in  her  words  of 
welcome,  and  then  burst  into  happy,  hysterical  tears. 

When  these  had  subsided,  and  Lilith    and    Aunt 


LILITH  331 

Sophie,  having  laid  off  their  wraps,  were  seated 
around  the  blazing  wood  fire  of  the  bed-room,  with 
Liom  stretched  on  the  rug  before  them,  and  Nancy 
standing  leaning  her  head  against  the  mantelpiece, 
Hereward  explained: 

"On  the  day  after  I  met  you  in  Paris,  Lilith,  five 
weeks  ago,  I  wrote  to  Oxley,  at  Cloud  Cliffs,  to  send 
Stephen,  Alick,  Nancy,  and  the  Newfoundland  dog, 
Lion,  out  to  me  by  one  of  the  French  line  of  steam- 
ers that  sail  direct  for  Havre.  I  gave  him  minute 
instructions  to  see  the  party  all  the  way  from  Cloud 
Cliffs  to  New  York,  and  on  to  the  ship  by  which 
they  would  sail.  I  directed  him  to  carry  out  all 
these  instructions  without  loss  of  time.  And  I  in- 
closed a  bill  of  exchange  to  cover  all  expenses.  He 
acted  so  promptly  and  intelligently  on  my  orders  that 
the  whole  party  reached  here  four  days  ago." 

"But  I  can't  get  it  out'n  my  head,  Miss  Lilif,  as 
you  and  me  has  died  and  waked  up  in  t'other  world! 
I'm  thankful  it  ain't  the  bad  place;  but  it  don't  look 
quite  like  heaven  nuther!  And  that's  what  puzzles 
ob  me,"  said  Nancy. 

"Never  mind,  you  will  corne  around  quite  right  in 
a  few  days,"  replied  Lilith,  consolingly. 

Senor  Zuniga  stayed  until  after  Christmas  with  the 
Herewards,  and  then,  about  the  middle  of  January, 
sailed  for  New  York. 

Senor  Zuniga  succeeded  beyond  his  sanguine  hopes 
in  recovering  his  patrimonial  estates.  He  sold  them 
for  all  they  were  worth  and  invested  the  money  in 
West  Virginia  land  near  Frosthill. 

Then  he  married  his  devoted  admirer,  Harriet  Miles, 
who  was  never  tired  of  telling  her  friends  that  she 
always  knew  that  he  was  a  young  nobleman  in  dis- 
guise who  was  only  playing  at  play  acting  for  his  own 
amusement. 

Madame  Zuniga's  stepfather,  old  Jab  Jordon,  is  a 


332  LILITH 

very  much,  subdued  old  man.  First,  he  is  "set  upon" 
by  Mrs.  Jab,  and  secondly  by  Master  Jab,  their  only 
son  and  heir. 

Mr.  Rufus  Hilary  wonders  that  his  brother-in-law 
should  ever  have  left  the  exciting  and  glorious  life 
of  a  "world-renowned"  dramatic  artist,  to  settle  down 
into  a  merely  respectable  farmer  and  father  of  a 
family  Mr.  Rufus  Hilary  is  still  an  ardent  admirer 
and  liberal  patron  of  the  stage;  he  is  still  unmarried, 
and  his  pretty  young  sister,  Miss  Emily  Miles,  keeps 
his  house. 

The  Herewards  are  still  abroad — Mr.  Hereward  fill- 
ing a  very  important  diplomatic  position  at  one  of  the 
highest  courts  in  Europe,  and  Mrs.  Hereward,  at  last 
his  deeply  loved  wife,  his  companion  in  domestic  life, 
his  helper  in  official  life,  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
and  admired  among  les  grandes  dames  who  add  lustre 
to  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  empress. 


THE   END 


A     000130249     6 


